


Klancetober 2018

by red_blue_shades



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also it's all fluff, Also there's a few days that aren't a modern AU but you'll figure that out, Because I can't write space wars, I'm never on time, Just not as major characters, Just...31 days of pure fluff, M/M, Modern AU, The others are here I swear, Yes it's November I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 20,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_blue_shades/pseuds/red_blue_shades
Summary: 31 fluffy nothings. No plot. (I think) All fluff.





	1. Walk In The Park

“There are so many better things we could be doing right now,” grumbles Lance McClain. It’s early, around 6 AM, and of course the first and only thing Keith insists on doing is going for a walk.  


Aforementioned Keith Kogane raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Such as?”  


The path they’re on is beautiful, a quiet trail through the normally busy park. He can see why Keith wanted to come here so early - without the mess of people, in the early morning, just being cheerful and chatting amid the occasional chirps of birds. The romantic in Lance - who’s he kidding, all of him is a hopeless romantic - sighs quietly.  


“I don’t know. Other autumn things. Every beverage replaced with weird coffee flavours,” Lance muses, lagging a bit behind as he takes in the delicate arch of red-gold leaves decorating the branches above their heads, “And hot chocolate.”  


Keith scoffs, stopping to cross his arms and turn to look at the boy in blue. “Hot chocolate is a winter thing.”  


Lance gasps, stepping up to the other boy’s side. “Says the heathen who eats literal ice cubes in the wintertime!”  


He slips his hand into Keith’s, and they continue walking. They’re both making a point to step on the crunchiest pile of leaves they can find without letting go of the other’s hand, even when the trail is almost coming to an end. The faintest amber-gold light seeps through the trees, and he can see a glimpse of clear sky if he looks up. In the summer, the trees form a large, regal green canopy. He might actually prefer this, fiery colours contrasted against the pale brown branches and sharp, painfully bright sunrise sky.  


“In my defense,” Keith says into the comfortable silence, knocking his shoulder into Lance’s. “Ice cubes are crunchy.”  


“I’m not gonna argue with you, heathen -”  


“ -You know you love me, babe -”  


“But we need to get back to the point. There are so many better things we could be doing right now!”  


Keith hums. “You sure?”  


They reach the end of the trail. Lance knows, every time, what he’s going to see, but it never makes the sight less breathtaking.  


The trees drop off abruptly, leaving them standing on the crest of a hill that glides down to a crystalline stream, glimmering in the warm light. The sky, earning some of its airy, carefree blue shades back from the night, positively glows. The sun in all its orange-red glory paints his boyfriend’s face in golden light, and Lance lets himself relax for a moment and just feel _safe_ and _content_ and _warm_ and _happy_.  


“Still think we shouldn’t have gotten up this early?” Keith whispers, as if not to break the tranquility. Lance laughs, quiet.  


“Unfair, babe.”  


They sit atop the hill in the soft, dewy grass, fingers still intertwined, side by side watching the sun rise.  


“You know you love me,” Keith says instead of responding. Lance sighs, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  


“Yeah, I do.”


	2. Autumn Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two, yeet  
> Also bear with me these get longer eventually

“Aren’t you supposed to do that with flowers?”  


Lance looks up, directing something between an exaggerated frown and a pout in the direction of the dark-haired teen casually leaning against a tree, observing the scene before him.  


“Who made that rule? As far as I’m concerned, you can make flower crowns with anything.” He returns to his work: arranging freshly fallen leaves, holes meticulously stabbed through and stems threaded into the punctures, into an elaborate wreath.  


Keith sighs, moving over to his boyfriend and sitting down with his back to a tree, legs covering the leaves Lance is using for his wreath. He shriek-hisses, shoving him away half-heartedly.  


_“You’re sitting on the leaves!”_  


Keith shudders, brushing wet leaves off his pants and moving his legs perpendicular to Lance. “I did it to annoy you, but I legitimately regret it now.”  


Lance smirks, leaning back until his head is in Keith’s lap and continuing the chain.  


“Lazy,” Keith mutters, but he closes his eyes and lets his fingers drift down and tangle themselves in Lance’s hair. Lance just hums, continuing the chain until...maybe add another leaf...and _done._  


Keith’s still leaning back against the tree, completely unaware of his surroundings.  


Slowly and carefully and ever so lightly, Lance places the crown of leaves and a little kiss on his black mop of hair.  


He lies back down, closes his eyes, relaxes - and he’s asleep before he knows it, lulled into sleep by gentle fingers twining their way through his hair.  


He’s fast asleep before he can hear the subtle shifting and sorting of leaves on the ground, the tell-tale tear of the thin leaf membranes, too deep in slumber to feel the caress of leaves and a brush of lips against his forehead.  


Fifteen minutes later, when the rest of their friend group shows up, they find Lance sound asleep, head in his boyfriend’s lap, both wearing matching crowns of fiery autumn leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I made a mistake, it's killing me inside, I have no idea how to fix it, oh no.


	3. Exploring Spooky Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is way too short

“Okay, but you’re _sure_ this isn’t a cult scene?”  


I turn back to the brown-haired boy in the oversized green jacket.  


“Lance, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re looking for a cult scene. Or...whatever you’d call the Galra. I don’t know if they count as a cult or not.”  


“They’re creepy enough,” grumbles Lance. “Without these claustrophobic, very dark _ruins_ of some fancy mansion all around us.”  


“Altea Manor,” I whisper. “Officially creepier than 59th street.”  


Lance snorts. “59th street is a home away from home by now. This is top-level -” he stops.  


“D-do you...hear that?”  


I slip my hand into his, pull him closer so we’re back-to-back.  


“...Nothing,” I whisper after a second. “What was it?”  


“I...don’t know. Some kind of...whisper?”  


We’re both silent a moment.  


“...Let’s keep moving,” Lance mutters. I nod, before realizing that we’re still mostly back-to-back and he can’t see it.  


“I - yeah. Let’s go.”  


I don’t let go of his hand. I just squeeze it even tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said no plot...but then again, hand holding and fluff outweighs potential plot.


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst sneaks its way in because why not, but I swear all of these have happy endings.

Keith isn’t glaring. He’s just...watching the rain. In a sort-of judgemental way. With his arms crossed. And a maybe sour expression.

Okay, yeah, Keith’s glaring.

It’s not...that he hates the rain. It’s just kind of inconvenient? Precipitation, getting in the way when you need to get somewhere - and okay, there’s one more reason. Rain is a cliche for sadness. And his cliche-filled orphaned-kid past has had plenty of times to embrace that cliche. 

“You need to lighten up, dude,” Lance observes. Keith turns the glare - fine, yes, it’s a glare - on him instead. 

“I don’t,” he insists, and Lance laughs. 

“He says while fixing me with a death glare. Come on, man, let’s go outside!” The taller boy sighs wistfully, leaning forwards to stare out the window for a moment before tugging insistently at his roommate’s arm. Keith refuses to budge. 

“I don’t get why you’re so...excited about it,” he mutters at last. “It’s just water that falls from the sky.”

Lance gasps. Theatrically, dramatically. “Excuse me? No. Rain is an experience, I’ll have you know. It’s...magical, there’s this misty haze everywhere and there’s these drops of pure crystal all around you...it’s the beginning of fall. Come on, Keithy boy, we’ve gotta!”

“I hate rain,” he blurts without thinking, and he gets to see Lance’s face fall. _Good job, you broke his heart!_

“I mean,” Keith says quickly, “I don’t hate it. It’s just...always showed up at terrible, extremely inconvenient times in my life, and it’s just cold and wet and dark and _ominous…_ ” 

He stops. He’s said too much. 

“So you’re just associating rain with bad things,” says Lance. “Somehow, I get the feeling that those times were worse than just being stuck inside cause of a storm.” 

Keith stays silent, because it’s not a question. 

“Well, that’s changing,” declares Lance. Keith’s skeptic expression must be really impressive, because Lance’s eyes sharpen and dance with the light of a challenge. 

“You don’t like rain cause of bad memories with it, right? Well, lucky for you, we’re making new ones. Good ones. Now come on!”

This time he actually grabs his jacket, tugging it on, slipping his feet into rubber boots. Keith sighs, hesitates a moment before following him like he knows he’s going to.

The moment they step outside, he hears the slick drizzle pounding the streets and feels sick.

Crash - gone - fire - disappeared...gone - no trace - gone - gone - GONE - 

“Hey, buddy. You alright?”

The words are soft, not teasing at all. Keith draws a big, steadying inhale. 

“I...yeah. Let’s do this.”

He’s still walking stiffly as Lance drags him back to the park, where they’re more or less alone. The day is drizzly and grey, and no one sane would be out here. Unfortunately for Keith, his roommate doesn’t count as ‘sane’. 

Lance tilts his face back to the sky, letting the rain hit his face, grinning widely and unashamedly. After a second, Keith does the same, sliding his eyes shut and basking in the surprisingly enjoyable sensation of cool rain on his face. Standing alone in the middle of a grey-green park under grey-blue skies, two boys in bright red and blue, hands joined, enjoying the rain.

“So,” says Lance quietly, turning to face Keith. “Better memories?”

There’s a pause, a silent shift in the air as he realizes how close they’ve gotten. They’re face-to-face, barely an inch between them that’s disappearing slowly and steadily as they gravitate towards each other - 

_Better memories?_

“I think so,” Keith whispers, and leans that fraction of an inch forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates. Oh my god, they were roommates.  
> Could I resist ending with a kiss? No, I could not. I am weak for this. It's an easy ending too.


	5. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the stories get longer...not by much though

“You don’t have to be so on guard, buddy,” Lance says in amusement. Keith shushes him with an abrupt slice of his hand. 

“I can’t hear any ambushes if you’re gonna be so _loud_ , Lance,” he hisses. 

“This is a haunted house. We’re _supposed_ to be jump-scared, that’s part of the fun and _oh holy mother of Kaltenecker_ -” He leaps backwards, practically hiding behind Keith. 

A leering skull grins back at them, hanging from the ceiling, twisted and deformed and _inhuman_. Keith shudders. 

“You see my point?”

Lance straightens, cautiously. “I’m starting to. Now can we move? All these mirrors are terrifying me.”

“Come on,” Keith whispers, “Stay behind me. Watch my back.”

“You got it, Samurai,” Lance mutters, tightening his grip on the Nerf gun he’s picked out. This is a weird system, he’s gotta admit, something about ‘authenticity’. Basically it means that he’s got his Nerf guns, Keith has these ridiculous swords that actually hurt a lot, Pidge is running around somewhere with a fake grappling hook and a foam-cannon-armed Hunk, Shiro and Adam are equipped with a weird boxing glove and stafflike foam stick combination, and Allura and Coran have their Nerf crossbow and another foam stick. Staff. Whatever. The Blade of Marmora (the acting group behind the haunted house) is extremely dedicated to their roles. Sometimes disconcertingly so.

The idea, apparently, is to reach the center of the mirror maze they’re in first. Lance and Keith are determined to win. Unfortunately, Keith won’t stop doing his overprotective-mother-lion act, and Lance...okay, the atmosphere is getting to him a little. Or a lot. He’s a little trigger-happy and jumpy.

But that doesn’t matter. They’re _going to win_. 

Lance sees movement in the corner of his eye, in the reflection of a mirror. He processes it too late.

A moment later, a blood curdling shriek echoes through the room. 

Keith is standing over an actor in the maze, who’d just appeared from behind a mirror to scare them. Lucky for Lance, his boyfriend is apparently impossible to jumpscare, and...hey, wait.

He’s on the floor, a few feet behind Keith, who’s apparently just taken the actor down with a foam sword and is now apologizing, face flushed with embarrassment while they laugh. Does that mean…

“Did you just _throw_ him?” the actor chokes out, their mask crooked. A red spot blinks on their costume, signalling Keith’s killing blow with the fake sword. “Oh, man. That was gold. Even though now I’m pretty sure you’re more dangerous than every single creature in this maze.”

Keith just glares halfheartedly, and suddenly Lance remembers that he used to work with the Blade for a while.

“Shut it, Regris,” he snickers. “Just don’t go anywhere near my boyfriend.”

Regris snorts, stepping back with a grand flourish and ruining the haunted house air. “I do believe you killed the monster, Mr. Kogane. Proceed! May the best group win.”

“We will,” smirks Keith, picking up the sword he dropped when he took down Regris. Lance, shouldering his gun, moves to follow him.

“He’s a keeper,” Regris murmurs conspiratorially as Lance passes him. Not caring how dreamy and idiotic he must look, Lance smiles.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”


	6. Lazy Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F L U F F

It’s suspiciously quiet.

The sun is out, the sky is full of puffy clouds, signalling that it’s going to rain sooner or later. At the moment, it’s a bright, cheery, _suspiciously quiet_ day.

Where is Lance? Usually in this weather, Keith’s boyfriend would be dragging the both of them out to do something outside, in the sunlight.

He pads down the stairs of the small house - _their_ house, he reminds himself, a pang of _excitednervoushappy_ going through him. They’d officially moved in a few months ago. He isn’t entirely used to it...but it’s a good kind of new. 

“Lance?” he calls quietly. The afternoon sun shines into the room, filling it with a thick warmth, an ethereal big fluffy blanket.

“Right here,” his boyfriend answers in a whisper, almost as if afraid to shatter the thick calmness.

Keith descends the rest of the stairs, ending up in their living room of sorts. Lance is lying on his back on their couch, book held above his face, making no attempt to read it.

“Anything wrong?” he asks softly. 

Lance groans, dropping the book. 

“I’ve given myself a headache,” he mutters, “just trying to read. To study, I guess, I’ve gotten nowhere.”

Keith moves over to the couch, perching on the armrest to look down at Lance’s face. Now that they’re past their ridiculous mutual pining phase, he’s not hesitant to admit that his boyfriend is the most beautiful human being Keith’s seen.

“How much did you need to do? We’re on break,” Keith says, just as quiet, if Lance’s got a headache. He lets his fingers wander into his boyfriend’s hair, gently kneading his forehead. It’s what Lance does every time Keith feels like his head’s about to explode.

“None of it,” Lance mumbles. “I just wanted to be ahead, I guess.”

“Then leave it,” Keith says, sliding onto the couch next to Lance and curling up. “If you don’t want to go out and be obnoxious like you usually do -” Plant a kiss on his forehead (sunshine, a bruise and a sweet autumn breeze, _kiss it better, cariño_ ). “-Then we can just stay in today. Be quiet. Relax. Be calm.”

“Seems like we don’t get to do that much,” Lance smiles, curling around Keith, warm and sure and steady. “You know, with the case.”

“We’ll worry about the case later,” Keith says sleepily, settling into Lance’s arms. “Right now, I’m thinking a nap?”

“...Sounds good.”

An hour later found the two curled into each other’s arms, fast asleep in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM TRASH FOR THIS KIND OF FLUFF  
> Also what's the case? I have no freaking idea.


	7. Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes they're still tiny chapters...

“Pass me the juniberries, will you?”

“Is this just because I’m tall, Kogane?”

Keith glares at the obnoxious, annoying, irritating boy, feeling a smile curl its way across his lips. That seems to be a side effect of dating Lance - the annoyance becomes endearing. Or maybe it was endearing a long time before that.

Probably the second one.

“You’re closer to the shelves,” he points out instead of verbalising that realisation. Lance hums, tossing Keith a jar of dried red berries. The throw goes wide.

“Careful,” he reprimands, catching the jar with a tap of air magic and floating it over to him. Lance grins. 

“When am I not careful?”

“Right now,” Keith deadpans. “And also five minutes ago when I asked for the jar of scaultrite. And -”

“Alright, alright,” Lance laughs. “But I’m going to disagree with you there. I’m exactly as careful as I need to be with your ingredients.” 

Keith narrows his eyes. A flick of his wrist guides ground citrine into the potion, but he never takes his eyes off Lance.

“And why’s that?

Lance leans in, smirking. Alarms go off in Keith’s brain.

“I’ve got you to catch them all, don’t I?”

Keith smirks right back, twitching his fingers, shifting the air around Lance’s feet. The taller boy falls face first on the wooden floor of their workshop.

“Oops,” he sing-songs, proffering Lance a hand.

Lance takes it, pulling himself up and twirling Keith around in the same motion. Keith lets himself be carried into a dramatic dip, laughing with his frankly ridiculous boyfriend. 

“Looks like you’ve swept me off my feet, dear,” Lance grins. “Let me return the favour?”

Endearingly ridiculous.

Keith smiles back, meeting his blue, blue eyes. 

“I don’t think I ever stood a chance, Lance.”

Lance huffs out a delighted laugh, and then he’s leaning in. Keith closes his eyes, relishing the soft brush of their lips - _this is the mastery of an art,_ he thinks, leaning into the kiss.

Lance is always warm, unlike the water and ice magic he embodies - the perfect balance, Keith’s said before. Lance always fakes offense: _“Not cool, but not hot? You’re impossible!”_

Annoying, but endearingly so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for the dip and kiss and it will show up more than once.


	8. Black Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Am I getting pretty vague with how the prompts tie to the actual drabbles? Maybe. You can't prove anything.

The sound of something scratching at his window wakes Lance up.

He rolls and wriggles his way out of his blanket trap, stumbling over to the window and opening it. A small black cat tumbles in, turning its clumsy somersault into a graceful roll as its shape changes - growing larger, red and white and flashes of grey-purple appearing, until there’s no longer a cat but a black-haired, red-jacketed teen crouched on Lance’s bedroom floor.

Keith stands up.

“About time, Lance.”

Lance shakes his head. “I’ll never get used to that.”

Keith shrugs, looking away. “It’s just something I happened to be born with. You’re acting like _your_ innate magick isn’t as scary.”

Lance scoffs. “My innate magick? Being _nice?_ Don’t give me that look, persuasion isn’t that great. Come on, let’s just get going.”

They escape out the window again, (“I’ll never understand you, it’s like you insist on being the biggest rom-com cliche there is -” “Oh, shut it, Mullet, it’s fun.”) Lance clinging tightly to tree branches while Keith, in cat form, nimbly leaps down. At the base of the tree, Keith immediately moves to a sleek red-and-white motorbike leaned against the trunk.

“Hello there, Red,” Lance tells her. Keith smirks, already jamming his helmet on and tossing Lance his own.

“Just get on, Lance.”

After seeing how often they’d ended up riding together, Keith had finally gotten Lance a helmet of his own, to avoid borrowing old ones from Shiro every time. It matches his own almost exactly, except for one detail: while Keith’s is red and white, matching his bike, Lance’s is in a clear shade of blue. 

He loves the gesture.

They ride the mostly empty streets, turning onto smaller and quieter roads until eventually, the road ends completely. 

Keith pulls off his helmet, and Lance has to fight the urge to reach over and smooth down his hair. It looks ridiculous, sticking up in every direction, puffing out in angry spikes. They walk out to the middle of the field, once a farm but now an abandoned patch of land. 

“Ready?” Keith asks, looking back, stars reflected in his eyes, glowing in his hair like dewdrops, giving his skin a silver-kissed sheen. 

Lance swallows.

“Let’s go.”

They take their positions. Lance closes his eyes and draws the magick from within him: the ocean, always frothing, always ready to rise.

“Nice,” murmurs Keith, observing the ribbons of ice and water levitating around Lance. He takes his stance, furrows his brow, concentrates - 

And flame erupts from his palms. The world lights up in a brilliant blaze of orange and red, and Lance just closes his eyes and lets the familiar warmth of Keith’s fire envelop him.

Just wait, give it a tick or two more...and _snap_.

A wave of icy wind washes over them, extinguishing the fire and plunging the field into cold. Frost creeps along the grass. Lance lowers his hands.

“That was awesome! Tell me I’m wrong, Keith.”

Silence. Lance opens his eyes.

“...Keith?”

He’s answered with a disgruntled _mrow_. 

Lance looks down and immediately bursts out laughing.

“Mrr!” insists the tiny black cat at his feet. Lance continues to wheeze, forgetting all thoughts of maintaining the freeze. Keith the cat flicks his tail, irritated. 

“Did I really startle you that much? Most people just get nosebleeds, you know,” Lance grins. Keith glares - which is honestly just his regular expression as a cat, piercing eyes stark against inky fur - and digs his claws into Lance’s foot.

“Ow! Jeez, Keith. How long are you gonna be stuck like this?”

The onyx-furred creature stands still for a moment before slumping. Still in cat form.

Lance, laughing, picks up the tiny creature - Keith wriggles madly, trying to escape - and starts to recline. Keith gets in a lucky kick (“What the quiznak? You’re a cat, Kogane, how do you kick that hard?”) and Lance drops him, falling back onto the grass.

“Congratulations,” he tells the violet-eyed feline on his chest. “You’ve brought me down. Could you just shift back?”

He’s not aware of the magick he put into those last five words until the weight on him increases substantially and oh for all the stars in the velvet night sky, _Keith Kogane is pinning him to the ground -_

“You’re the worst, Lance,” grumbles Keith, awkwardly rolling off the other boy and ending up lying next to him. Lance remains silent.

For some reason, neither of them brings up the training again. Instead, they quietly chatter about magick and life and a thousand other unrelated things, watching the stars slowly fade away in the light of the sun. By some unspoken agreement, they lie there, watching the sky until it paints itself in fire and it’s time to embrace another few rom-com cliches to get home before the sun comes up.

Still, Lance reflects, arms around Keith’s waist as they traverse the quiet dawn roads, sometimes you’ve gotta embrace a few cliches. If not just for the sake of doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'M not very good at tense changes, can you tell?  
> Also I just remembered why this one is one of my least favourites


	9. Ghost Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever expand on these? Maybe. Possibly. Someday.

“Why’d you insist on this again?” mutters Hunk. Lance shushes him.

“Listen, buddy, scoping out haunted houses is our thing. _Our thing!_ If Red and Green think they can take us down, they’ve clearly been possessed one too many times.” 

“Technically, they started at the same time as us,” Hunk says, but Lance ignores his sensible friend. 

“There they are,” he growls.

Green is waving around a weird contraption that would look professionally made, but he’s never seen anything like this.

“Like I keep saying,” Hunk whispers, “we should be considering an alliance, not a rivalry. I don’t think they even realise we’re rivals.”

Lance waves his hand. “Doesn’t matter. What does is that we get to the ghost before they do. Hunk, stat me!”

His friend immediately straightens. “Right. First account of haunting just after it burned down in 1994. Other reports flooding in more recently, including one photo: a ghostly woman in pink and white, with seemingly white hair. She’s been heard crying on more than one occasion, and her interference can be sorted into words, the most common being: _Altea. Alfor, please, Allura needs someone. My dear...we’ve fallen.”_

Lance shudders. 

Their job is to get close to the ghosts, help them move on. Red and Green have apparently got similar ideas, and - well. Hunk’s not wrong. If they joined up, they could make a great team. 

And the story of the ghost, who they’ve started referring to as the Weeping Woman, is enough to make him pity whoever she’s talking to - whoever Alfor and Allura are, he needs to find them and bring them peace.

He doesn’t realize how far they’ve drifted forwards until something slams into him, and he finds himself flat on his back, looking up into the face of the most attractive human being he’s seen.

Dark hair, unusually long, but somehow still looking amazing. Intense eyes of steel and violet, burning holes into his soul.

Oh, yeah. Whoever this stupidly hot person is, they’re also staring him down with the worst of death glares.

“Blue,” he snaps, and Lance realizes who he’s looking at.

“...Red...”

“Oh, hey,” Hunk nods, coming up behind them. “Red. Green. Sorry for sneaking up on you - Lance insisted.”

“Lance…?” Red repeats, the word sounding foreign but not necessarily bad on his tongue. “You mean Blue?”

“Oh. Yeah. The name’s Hunk! You know me as Yellow.”

Green brightens.

“Yellow! As in the engineer? This is brilliant. Keith, fill in Blue - er, Lance. We’re gonna go build a better machine to find the ghost.”

_Keith_ frowns. (Why why _why_ is the name just as pretty as this boy? Lance asks the universe.) 

“In...five minutes, in a haunted house? I don’t think even you’re that good, Pidge.”

Green - Pidge - shoots Keith a stare over the rim of their round glasses. 

“Yellow is a better engineer than me, but I’m willing to bet that I’m the better technician by a long shot. That’s twice the power - _yes_ in five minutes in a haunted house. Get talking!”

Keith sighs, extending a hand, and Lance suddenly realizes he’s still on the floor. He scrambles upright, ignoring the proffered hand. He stretches before turning to the boy in the red jacket - is that a _cutoff?_ How is his complete lack of fashion sense fashionable?

Well, Pidge isn’t gonna leave Hunk alone anytime soon...and Lance has always been the king of impulsive decisions. And it’s not like both sides _won’t_ benefit from an alliance, right?

(Why’s he so vocal for a cause he was against around two seconds ago? It’s not because Keith is stupidly attractive. Lance is so much smarter than that.)

(...)

(No.)

(He’s not.)

“So, fill me in, Mullet boy, if we’re gonna be a team now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said these get longer? Yeah apparently I'm a filthy liar, anyways, the weather


	10. Monster/Costume Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hint: it's costume dance

Idly casting a glance around the room, Keith relaxes in a corner of relative darkness, watching the shadows and colourful lights throw monstrous shapes around the walls and floor of the room.

“Looking every inch the vampire, Mr. Kogane,” a voice purrs, drawing his attention.

He probably does, honestly - having Adam the expert needleworker throw together your costume will do that. There’s a black-and-white theme for everything down to his mask, half-and-half, accented with ruby tracings. The only exception: his cape. That’s the true work of art, deep black that holds a hundred shades of ink and onyx and ebony within, a rich, startling red on the inside, flaring colours when he walks.

“Drop-dead gorgeous, one might say,” continues the voice, and Keith follows it to a boy lounging against the same wall, facing him. His ensemble is the opposite of Keith’s - the suit in shimmering blue, traces of pristine white, the mask an intense sky-aqua shade with black and white curling across. The cape is a beautiful, pearlescent, iridescent white, the most prominent sheen blue but so many other colours within. The inside is the deepest black, the shade of shades and shadows and the deepest midnight.

“And you,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Seems you’ve found a costume competing with you for the most breathtaking thing in the room.”

The boy laughs, oceanic eyes meeting Keith’s. “Neither I nor my costume stand a chance with you here, Mr. Dark Prince.”

That’s what triggers the blush. Keith is suddenly red enough to match his cape. The boy laughs again - but it’s hysterical giggles, no longer the careful and classy laugh of before.

“Why do you even try, Keith? I always win the flirting competitions.”

“You’ll never stop me from trying,” Keith mutters, face burning. That’s true, at least.

“Yes, but I’m a _professional._ You’ll never beat the Lancey-Lance, so I’d say-”

Lance stops talking. He can’t keep talking.

Because Keith’s moved fast, his cape still flowing behind him when he reaches Lance in under two paces. Keith’s moved fast, and then his lips are pressed against Lance’s, brushing a featherlight touch under his jaw for just a second before he pulls back.

“I think I just did, Lance.”

His boyfriend sighs. “Every time, Keith, every time. This is definitely unfair.”

Keith arches an eyebrow, smiling - he can’t help it. “Complaining?”

Lance shakes his head, returning the grin. “Well. Let’s not get too hasty - no one’s said that.”


	11. Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A New AU Begins TM!

He doesn’t crave blood. On the contrary, he always feels mildly nauseated in biology whenever they’ve got to dissect something (and their professor is  _ unnervingly enthusiastic _ about dissections). He’s not exactly out to kill, either - sure, he hates some people, but he wouldn’t actually wish death on anyone.

_ Then again, _ he remembers wryly,  _ there are fates worse than death. Like mine. _

_ What did I ever do to you, universe? _

Another few things that aren’t exactly going with the stereotype: he’s been working on wrangling it. He’s not constrained to the full moon by any means, and he’s not... _ required  _ to shift.

Sometimes it just takes over.

Like when he gets angry, really angry. He’s been told that his eyes flash a furious shade of sunrise, effectively strengthening the force of his death glare. Luckily, he doesn’t have a flash-fire temper. 

Lance looks around, observing the autumn woods coolly. He should be here any moment…

A crackle of fire snaps to life behind him, and he turns. Somehow -  _ somehow _ he never sees him coming.   
The fire lasts only a second, a bright flare bursting from the ground before it recedes. Standing there, back to Lance, is a figure in dark clothing, cloak red as fresh blood spilling out behind him. And he’s still got that  _ terrible _ mullet.

“Took you long enough, Your Highness,” Lance says teasingly. Keith turns to face him and sighs.

“You’re still gonna insist on calling me that?”

The cape shimmers and shifts, becoming a cutoff jacket (no style whatsoever) over Keith’s admittedly ordinary black t-shirt and nondescript pants. They set off deeper into the woods.

“I’m not getting over the fact that you decided not to tell me that you were an honest-to-god YA-novel prince of darkness. Who does that?”

“Not even the crown prince,” mutters Keith. “That’s Shiro.”

Lance throws his hands up. “Still!”

They reach a cleared-out, empty circle of land. Keith stops.

“Alright. Show me what you’ve got. Do you want me to aggravate you?”

Lance steps to the center, but hesitates.

“I...don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The dark-haired boy raises an eyebrow.

“I have no control over it when I’m angry. Maybe if we tried a different emotion…?”   


Keith hums. “Sadness, maybe? Desperation?”

“What happens if I trigger it with something happy?”

There’s a beat of silence. Lance looks up, hesitant, but...Keith is smiling. Widely.

“That’s brilliant.”

Happy thoughts, then, think happy thoughts.

Lance concentrates. Focuses on bringing that happy, bubbly, sunshine-glow feeling into his chest, that bigger-than-life explosion of warmth. Things that made him feel light, floaty, dreamlike. Warm summer days, the beach, Keith - 

He stops.

_ Keith? _

Where did that thought come from?

He’s thinking about happy things. Things that make him happy, or almost giddy with excitement -  _ like when you get him to smile,  _ he thinks, _ when you see the sun shining in those beautiful eyes. When you’re laughing, just the two of you, and the world shrinks down to a bubble around you. That fluttery feeling in your gut when you make him laugh. The way you can think alongside him, act without speaking, that tense and exciting happiness when you both move as one. Something soft that breaks inside you whenever you’ve seen him distraught, sad, straight-up tearing himself to shreds over something, the way it mends itself when you get him to smile again, broken as that smile may be. All the times you’ve offhandedly noticed just how damn beautiful he is - that’s what that feeling is, Lance. _

He doesn’t even notice how the world around him has sharpened, brighter and clearer and softer...he’s focused on this revelation.

_ When did this happen? When did I fall in love? _

A shadow falls across him.

“...Lance?”

That’s when he realizes. 

Using his happiest emotions - the ones generated by Keith, apparently - he’s done it. He’s shifted into his wolf form, and  _ he’s completely aware.  _ He yips, cheerful, just once.

“You did it!” laughs Keith, excited and happy and breathy, like a huge weight just fell off his shoulders. Lance thinks about his smaller form melting away, becoming human again - and just like that, it happens.

“You did it,” Keith repeats, his huge grin rather unbecoming of a dark prince or whatever he is. Lance shakes his head.

“ _ We _ did it. We are a good team.”

He’s gazing directly at Keith, watching the way the sun falls across his face, seems to glow from within his violet eyes...and that’s also something he’s gonna have to deal with, isn’t it. This...interesting new development.

_ Oh, gods, I’m in love with Keith. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the realisation hits...


	12. Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New AU Continues TM!

"How the turntables, Prince of Darkness,” Lance grins as they slip into the woods, the Aegis hiding Keith - the purple tinge to his skin, the yellow glow of his eyes. He’s lost control again - he keeps going back to this  _ demon _ form. It’s not supposed to happen.  _ He’s _ the one supposed to be teaching  _ Lance _ how to control the monster in him, but he can’t even handle his own.

Keith sighs, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the werewolf. “You know, that sentence may actually have sounded... _ serious _ ...if you’d drop the Office reference.”

“At least you’ve stopped trying to deny the prince bit!” Lance bounces back cheerfully. Keith casts a glare at the ground. That eternal cheerfulness of Lance’s, sadly, isn’t quite contagious enough.

“Yeah, well...I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

They stop walking. The quasi-cheerful mood drops. 

Keith silently curses himself -  _ just keep your mouth shut, Kogane, no one really wants to hear you rant _ . 

“I don’t think any part of your identity is something to be ashamed of,” Lance says softly after a moment. Keith continues to stare at the ground, maybe trying to burn a hole in it. (It  _ has _ happened before…)

“Great in theory,” Keith says drily, sitting and leaning against a tree trunk. Lance does the same across from him, facing him. The two are sitting so close, he’s practically in Keith’s lap. “But actually doing it? Not so easy.” 

Lance snorts. “My disaster-bisexual werewolf self relates. Look, buddy, I’m not saying certain people are gonna be understanding of things that are beyond their imagination - things like, say, surprisingly hot and not undead demon princes.”

Keith blinks. Several times. Fast. His face grows a darker shade of purple - perks of black blood, your face doesn’t burn a bright, unsubtle red. Plus he still has his hood up - that hides his face in shadow, too. It’s kinda too bad his blood reverts to red in human form.

“What I  _ am _ saying,” continues Lance, unaware of Keith’s internal turmoil, “is that it doesn’t  _ matter _ what these people think. Sure, we have to hide to...stay alive and not be burned at the stake -”

“- Exactly what I’m saying, this mindset is what got the witch hunts started -”

“ _ But _ ,” Lance says, “it doesn’t have to mean anything to you. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Keith growls. The work he’s been doing - prying the purple away from his skin, clearing his vision, taking back those ridiculous ears - starts to unravel, and he quickly goes back to pushing his other form away. It does leave, but the fangs are still there. They’re the hardest to get rid of.

“ _ How _ ,” he says, “am I not supposed to be ashamed of _ this _ ?”   
He makes sure that his fangs show when he speaks - one, so he can actually get words out around them, and two, to prove his point. He’s still working on pushing them back, slowly but surely, so they’re no longer the size of his index finger - closer to around twice his fingernail. Smaller. Subtler. In hiding.

How is he not supposed to be ashamed when he’s hiding himself?

But Lance meets his gaze, firm and resolute.

“ _ I’m _ not ashamed of you.”

Why is that all it takes? All of a sudden, he’s blinking tears away, and Lance has his face cupped in his hands. All of a sudden, they’re closer, there’s a stunned silence, a shocked silence, a suspenseful silence filling the space between them that’s getting smaller and smaller - all of a sudden, his arms are around Lance’s neck and Lance’s fingers are twisted into his hood, pulling him closer -

All of a sudden, his reality dissolves into one moment. He’s kissing Lance. Lance is kissing him. They’re kissing.

Lance pulls back too soon.

“Um.”

Keith coughs, and Lance looks away, face turning red.

“Your fangs are awesome,” he says into the awkward, heavy silence.

Keith is so, so glad for black blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Your fangs are awesome" very smooth my boy, very smooth


	13. Bonfire/Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

"Can’t believe it’s already snowing,” grumbles Lance, staring out the window at the white-cold night. Keith nudges him in the leg from where he’s curled up in a blanket nest on the ground.

“Weather’s unpredictable, come get a marshmallow.”

Instead of one, Lance grabs the whole bag. Keith hisses, swatting at him, but Lance just leisurely opens the bag and lounges on the blanket nest.

“It’s so cold, though,” he continues. Keith eyes him once, then stands up abruptly.

“Alright. Get off the blankets.”

“Um, what? No. This is warm. I’m not going to - _ACK! Alright, alright, you demon of a boyfriend._ ”

Keith retracts his fingers from Lance’s sides, grinning smugly. “Thank you.”

Lance retreats to the couch, on the other side of the room, and Keith gets to work - dragging the beanbags over, bringing down the fluffiest blankets from their bed upstairs. He’s kind of getting used to the layout of their - _their!_ \- house.

“What are you doing?” asks Lance, mildly amused. Keith glares, straining as he drags one of their couches over to the fireplace.

Lance immediately gets off the other one and helps him pull it over to the first, forming a little triangle in front of the fireplace. The windows glow white and cold behind them, so they get to work lowering the blinds to a point where light comes in as a faint, pale glow. It feels compact and cozy and warm.

“Bring the marshmallows,” Keith reminds his boyfriend, ducking under a thick blanket on the beanbag. Lance does, but leaves them on the couch, instead burrowing into the same blanket as Keith. He snorts, amused, but wraps the thick purple fabric around the blue-eyed boy, pulling him towards himself.

“Warmer now,” Lance mumbles, snuggling up to Keith. He’s pretty sure his heart melts. Heat travels up his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

Even after years of dating Lance, he never fails to make Keith blush whenever he’s like this - a soft, melted, fluffy version of the vibrant Lance he fell in love with. But that’s alright. He may have fallen because of one version of Lance, but he stayed in love because of all of them.

He drapes an arm around Lance’s shoulders, and the boy leans into him. Keith lets them both fall backwards.

Lance, almost instinctively, curls around Keith, and Keith relaxes into his touch. They stay like that a moment, comfortable and warm, before Lance sighs.

“Ever considered that this could be routine?” he murmurs, so quiet Keith almost can’t hear him. “You know, almost like a guarantee. That the first thing we each see when we wake up...is the other person.”

Keith blinks, heart rate accelerating.

“Are...are you asking…”

“No,” Lance says quickly. “Not...no. I’m just asking you if you...if you’d consider it.”

The words hang heavy in the silence. Keith, face hidden away, smiles.

“I...would...consider it,” he whispers. Lance’s arms, wrapped around him, lose their tension. Keith closes his eyes, calm in the comfortable quiet. He’s surrounded by warmth - the fireplace, the blankets, _Lance_.

He’s almost asleep when he hears it, ever so quiet.

“Night, Keith...love you.”

_I love you too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa so smol  
> Yeah he kind of sort of proposed but y'know


	14. Morning Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a continuation from last one. No, it's definitely a continuation of the last one. I think. I'm sure. Mostly.

Lan ce wakes up to the sharp-sweet scent of citrus shampoo and his arm around someone’s waist. Blinking, drowsy, he slowly becomes aware of his surroundings.

He’s on his back, on the huge purple beanbag that was the best impulse buy he’s ever made. One arm is tucked loosely behind his head, the other wrapped around his boyfriend, who’s curled into his side.

Lance smiles, somewhat unconsciously. Last night, when he’d...well, sort-of kind-of proposed a proposal, he was sure he’d screwed up massively. He loves Keith, he knows he does, and if Keith isn’t ready to think about getting married, then Lance is going to respect that.

Lance rolls onto his side, tucking his other arm under Keith’s, pulling him closer. He seemingly generates heat - Lance sometimes wonders if he’s just perpetually feverish, but he always seems fine. He brushes his nose against the top of Keith’s head, closes his eyes, presses a kiss to the top of his head.

Keith’s citrus scent is stronger now, but just as soft and comforting as always. He finds himself slipping back into drowsiness, and then falling further.

Lance falls asleep with someone in his arms and the feeling of safety, warmth, comfort.

Kei th wakes up with someone’s arms around him, surrounded by the feeling of not quite warm, not quite cool, but balanced - perfect. 

They’re where they collapsed yesterday, he notes, although the fire has shut off. Still in the little nook between the two couches, on the huge beanbag, still curled into each other. 

And...yesterday. Last night, specifically, when Lance had...proposed? Somewhat proposed?

Either way...Keith is trying to figure out what he’d have said. No, he’s trying to figure out if what he’d have said is a good idea. He knows full well what he’d say.

Lance’s arms are draped loosely across him, and Keith stretches out a bit, cuddling into the taller boy. 

He...honestly, he wants to get used to this. He wants to count on this. They’ve been together for years, and he wants this to be something that he  _ knows _ can happen every day. 

And that...that should justify his answer, shouldn’t it? 

But...he’s nervous. This is his future. Why does he feel so  _ strongly _ about putting it one way instead of the other?

_ Maybe it’s time you trusted your instincts again, _ says a voice, one that sounds a bit like Shiro.  _ After all, the last time you did, it led you to Lance.  _

Keith closes his eyes, curls up into Lance, who grumbles (still mostly asleep) and pulls him tighter to himself. 

He’d say yes. He’ll say yes, he knows that. But now that he’s confirmed that, he doesn’t have to think about that right now. He doesn’t have to think about anything right now, really, what he has to do is sink into Lance’s arms and Lance’s not-cold-not-warmth.    


Keith falls asleep in the arms of the one he loves, surrounded by the feeling of softness, sleepiness, tranquillity, of being safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *long sigh*


	15. Harvest Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a continuation of something later on in Klancetober prompts but *shrug*

"Why  do people even go to this length to...celebrate cutting plants?” Lance laughs, casting his gaze around the sprawling fairgrounds. They’re still pretending to be lost, he thinks - even though both he and Keith know full well they slipped away from the group. Everyone in the group most likely knows that as well.

“You’re impossible,” Keith grins, holding a candy apple (they grew on him) in one hand and Lance’s hand in the other. “It’s historically important. Or...it used to be.” He bites into the sugar-covered fruit.

“Maybe,” Lance shrugs, conceding. “It does get us free food, though.”

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t even how it’s supposed to be done. This is just…a fall fair.”

“Fall fairs are good,” Lance shoots back defensively. Keith tries to hold back a little laugh - unsuccessfully. Lance pauses, pretending to think.

“Actually, fall fairs are the best. They get my boyfriend to giggle.”

Keith raises an eyebrow skeptically, but a smirk slips its way onto his face. “Giggle?”

Lance slings an arm around his shoulders. “That was a giggle, Keith. Don’t deny it.”

Stoic-faced, Keith glances over at him. “I’ll deny it for as long as necessary, Lance.”

“Well, now you’ve challenged me! I can’t back down from a challenge,” Lance purrs. Keith snorts, looping his arm around Lance’s waist. 

“Of course, Sharpshooter.”

“Just because I’m better at paintball,” Lance mutters, grinning. They wander the grounds, ‘lost’, taking in the masses of people, the bright autumn day.

“Can’t wait till we’re tracked down,” Keith comments, finally finishing the apple with a satisfying munch.

Lance stops as if electrified, looks around. Warily, Keith looks around, silently wishing he’d kept the skewer from the candy apple. It was sharp. 

“...Lance?”

“We can’t let them find us,” is his ridiculous boyfriend’s response. Keith’s gaze sharpens, instantly understanding. 

“They don’t know they’re tracking us. And you know what they say, if you can’t beat them...join them.”   


“What are you suggesting?” Lance frowns, eyes narrow, voice low. Keith’s gaze darts around the grounds. 

“By the time  _ they _ decide to hunt  _ us _ down, we’ll have the upper hand.”

Lance smirks, devious. “Jumpscare?”

“They’ll regret ever letting us team up,” Keith says, returning the evil grin. “From now on, this is war.”

They both hold each other’s gaze for a moment before collapsing into giggles.

“In all seriousness, though, let’s go scare our friends. You know, punishment. For losing us,” Lance says, once their mutual giggling fit ends. 

“Of course, babe, of course,” teases Keith.

“It’s the truth, Samurai,” Lance grins. They walk into the glow and bustle of the fall fair, fingers laced together, footsteps sounding in time to each other’s. Not simultaneous, not the same - complimenting each other, forming a melody. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I don't know what I'm doing?


	16. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS. COULD BE SO COOL. IF I ACTUALLY HAD THE SKILL TO WRITE IT.

"So , can I count on seeing your lovely face again?” purrs the sleazy jerk. Lance resists the urge to leap out from behind the door and punch him right in the tacky skincare routine. Allura, thankfully, is a little...calmer.

“Perhaps,” she says, impeccable and calm. “I don’t think you should  _ count _ on it, however.”

A pause. Lance can tell someone is ready to speak again. He sees Allura, arms crossed, indecipherable smirk crossing her features a moment before the door - untouched by anyone - slams shut. She immediately locks it and slumps against the wall.

“That. THAT, is always, without fail, the ugliest part of my day.” 

Lance shakes his head, stepping into the room fully, shaking out the last of his transparency. “You should really let me deal with him,” he says, and then offers a quick nod at the seemingly empty air in front of the door. “Thanks, Keith.”

“No problem.”

The spirit’s form solidifies, fading into view for any humans nearby - smug smirk, red cropped jacket, and admittedly not that bad mullet. 

“I actually enjoy that. A bit. More than a bit.” He pads over to the door, feet hovering a few inches above the ground. “Is that wrong of me?”

“Definitely not,” Pidge says, coming down the stairs. “It would be so much easier if you’d just let us all deal with him.”

Allura sighs. “I can’t just let ghosts run loose. Do you know how terrified people would be? You’re all still technically missing.”

Pidge sighs.

“That’s true. I kinda miss being...physical. Tangible. You know?”

Allura’s flinty eyes soften. In unison, all three of them step towards Pidge, intent on a hug. Lance and Keith, also being spirits, are technically the only ones who can touch her...but Allura gives their pseudo-sister a hug all the same. 

They run through their day like this, the same schedule as usual. Helping Allura ward off that creep Lotor and whatever Galra find their way to their door. Messing around, helping Hunk cook - mostly through telekinesis, which makes the kitchen both an awe-inspiring display and a flying hazard zone. As ghosts, they haven’t needed sustenance since...well, the day they all got zapped into the spirit realm (“Not dead,” Allura always insists, eyes shining with tears. “I can’t accept that all of you are dead.”), but Allura and Coran hate eating alone, so they stick around. 

And in the evenings and mornings, during the sunrise and sunsets...Lance goes up to the roof.

He un-solidifies his ethereal form first, so no one sees a missing case on the roof of a fancy manor, and floats his way up, ending up staring at the skies. Always. Every time. And every time, without fail…

A whisper of wind spirals behind him.

“So nice of you to join me, Mr. Mullet,” Lance says softly, not looking away from the horizon. Keith hovers beside him a moment, settling onto the shingles of the roof beside him.

“Usually you’d say that with a bit more venom,” he replies, glowing hazy and orange in the light of the setting sun. 

“ _ So nice of you to join me - _ nope. Can’t do it. It’s like trying to say ‘bubbles’ when you’re angry.” Lance shrugs.

Keith frowns, contemplating, before a cold, distant look spreads across his face. His eyes burn as much as they can, being translucent and whatnot.

“ _ Bubbles, _ ” he growls, spitting the word out like it’s poisonous. Lance bursts into giggles. Keith succumbs soon after.

“You - you should have seen your face,” Lance wheezes. Keith smiles, but something feels faraway about it. Not the Keith that was just giggling - yes, they were giggles - with Lance on a rooftop, watching a sky painted in fire.

“...Are you sure you’re alright?” asks Keith after a moment of silence. Lance doesn’t meet his eyes, but stares at the setting sun. His eyes don’t burn - they can’t.

“Do...you really believe Allura can...bring us back? Not to doubt her or anything, if there was anything possible she’d do it, but maybe...maybe it’s impossible?” 

Keith sighs. 

“Believe me, I keep thinking about that. But...there’s nothing we can do, is there?”

Lance looks down.

“Are you saying all we have to do is trust?”

“Maybe it is that easy,” Keith murmurs, and Lance realizes that -  _ oh _ \- maybe he’s talking about something more than their predicament.

_ Do you trust me? _ Keith had asked that day, seeming so long ago. 

Lance did. He does.

But he didn’t know how to say it then, and he doesn’t know how to say it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tries to convey keysmash range of emotions without keysmashing*


	17. Carving Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff to make up for the semi-sad ending of the last one

Keith picks up the knife.

He eyes his target - completely still, immobilised. Good. This will make things easier - for him, and for his target.

A loud, fake yawn comes from beside him. “Keith...honey, babe, sugar, cupcake, sweetie...I don’t think you can carve a pumpkin by glaring at it enough.”

“Let’s get this on with,” Keith says instead, quirking an eyebrow at Lance and ignoring the flush that races up his face. _Pet names._ Lance knows his weakness for those _insufferable_ pet names.

Aforementioned boyfriend tilts his head, a smile lighting up his features.

“Yes,” he purrs, picking up another carving knife. “Let’s.”

They take their positions, each occasionally casting dramatic glances at the other.

“Go!” announces Lance, eyes gleaming. Keith frowns, glancing at his blank orange surface. What should he carve?

He frowns, thinks a moment. Before he knows it, his hands are flying and a picture is slowly but surely being carved into the malleable surface of the hollowed-out pumpkin. His eyes narrow and his world shrinks to just him, his tools, and his canvas. He adds notches, carves out slices - this is art. He knows what he’s creating will be art.

Lance sets aside his pumpkin. “Done!”

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” mutters Keith, not looking up from his project. The sound of soft footfalls sound behind him, and then arms wrap around his shoulders. A familiar weight drapes itself across his back.

“Lance.” Keith deadpans. “I am holding a knife.”

“You’d never hurt me,” Lance says, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. Keith hums.

“...Maybe.”

That’s a lie. He knows full well that not only would he never hurt Lance, he’d also hunt down anyone who tries to. _That_ is definitely the truth.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my incredible boyfriend,” Lance smirks, dropping his head to a comfortable position on Keith’s chest.

Keith doesn’t even pause in his frenzy of chipping away at the pumpkin. “So I am, I’m still _yours_.”

Lance squeaks.

“That - that is _unfair!_ ”

Keith focuses on the pumpkin, smiling slightly. “Let me work, then.”

“Nope. Not after _that_ low blow.” Lance raises his head, pressing a kiss to Keith’s neck.

Keith sighs. “I’ll never get a moment of peace, will I?”

“Dating me?” Lance stands upright fully, plants a little kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “Not likely.”

Keith just laughs. Lance is completely right, and he loves that.

“Alright,” he announces, “My work of art is complete.”

Lance takes one look at it and groans. Sure, it’s done in immense detail, precise and clear and beautiful, leaving no doubt as to what it is, but…

“Is that _Mothman?_ ”

“It’s for Halloween!” Keith protests, and Lance grins. Wide and unashamed. It’s an odd time to reflect, but Keith loves that. Keith loves his ridiculous boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I end with that twice? Yes, yes I did. Do I care?
> 
> ...yeah I do, but I'm trying not to cause I know _I_ can't fix it


	18. Scary Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess those hours of watching Buzzfeed Unsolved alone in a dark room came in handy, huh, Keith?
> 
> Also known as: two idiots watch A Quiet Place

"Are  you sure you want to do this?” Keith asks drily. Lance glares at him, kneeling on the carpet and fiddling with the TV - Keith’s old conspiracy monitor. 

“Absolutely,” he grumbles, crossing the floor in three quick strides and flopping down dramatically beside Keith on their couch. “Let’s go.”

Keith casts a glance at the windows - all blinds down. Lights off; dim yellow lamp on and casting the room in a faint, warm glow. Snacks on a side table. Lance curled up next to him, under the huge, soft blanket with their colours - red and blue, touches of purple - fading in and out like nebulae. 

Keith clicks play. After snorting and snickering through several of the pre-movie ads, they reach the beginning. A quiet falls over the pair.

Lance takes a deep breath. Swallows. 

“We good?”

Instead of responding, Keith stabs the remote. The movie -  _ A Quiet Place _ \- starts to play.

At the toy shuttle scene, Keith glances over at his boyfriend. Lance is staring at the screen, eyes wide, tense, hands at his mouth and gripping the edges of the blanket desperately. 

Keith shakes his head, smiling a little. He shifts over and wraps an arm around Lance, who flinches briefly before leaning into his touch. 

“Already, Lance?” Keith murmurs into the quiet. Lance scowls, turning his head slightly, most of his vision focused on the screen, but somewhat facing Keith.

“Shut up, Mullet.”

Keith sighs, leaning his head on Lance’s shoulder. They watch on in silence.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when Lance utters a quiet whimper. Keith looks up immediately.

“...Lance?” he questions quietly. It’ll wound his boyfriend’s pride, but he’s already reaching for the remote to shut off the movie. 

“Nothing. Just,” Lance inhales, “Give me a moment?”

“Of course.”

The scene plays on. Keith presses a light kiss to Lance’s cheek. 

When they reach the red-lights scene, Lance curls in on himself, apparently unable to tear his eyes from the screen. 

“Why did I ever talk myself into this?  _ Why did you let me talk you into this? _ ” Lance hisses, trembling in Keith’s arms. Keith smiles.

“I don’t know, Lance, but you’d think after a while you’d learn.”

“Hmm…” Lance pauses. “No. I like this. This way I get to watch movies and cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to terrify yourself to do that,” Keith mutters. Lance hums.

“Terrifying yourself is half the fun. How are you still watching that?”

Keith shrugs as much as he can with Lance hanging off of him. “The characters make the stupidest mistakes. And...I guess I have more important things to focus on.”

Lance raises an eyebrow, still staring at the screen - almost pointedly. “Oh?”

“Yes, things like making sure my idiot boyfriend doesn’t scar himself trying to prove he’s strong or whatever.”

“I’m not -” Lance huffs. “Okay, somewhat.”

Keith laughs.

“Don’t worry. I’d never be able to watch this one alone.”

“That’s comforting.”

The silence settles over them, punctuated by the occasional bursts of sound from the TV. Keith keeps an eye on Lance, though, but he seems fine until they reach the pickup truck scene, near the very end. That’s when Lance starts blinking furiously, a tear escaping the death machine that is his eyelashes.

Keith turns to him immediately, cupping his face in his hands, brushing away the tear with his thumb. Sure, it’s a sad part, but in any case…

“You okay?”

Lance doesn’t say anything. He’s examining Keith’s face - quiet, serious...almost worried-seeming.

There’s a shout from the screen as the father leads those unnerving creatures away from the children. Lance swallows.

“I...well. I was just…worried, I guess. It’s stupid. We can go back to -”

“Lance. It’s not stupid. Whatever it is you’re feeling, however small and unimportant-seeming, I’m telling you it’s not stupid.”

Lance’s shoulders slump.

“It’s just...I would fight those things off for you in a heartbeat. You know that?”

Keith blinks, processing, before he smiles and lightly kisses Lance’s forehead. 

“I know, and I’d do the same.”

That gets a laugh from him. “Gods, could you imagine? We’d probably both die. Too preoccupied with saving the other.”

“Yeah, but you’d get away,” Keith insists, poking Lance’s chest. Lance taps his nose in retaliation.

“Nope! No way. I’d stay behind,  _ you _ should run.”

They ping-pong theoretical survival back and forth, poking each other and eventually devolving into a helpless fit of giggles.

Onscreen, the mother and daughter arm themselves in the final scene, and then the credits start rolling. Keith nods, satisfied. They’re finally doing something about the monsters.

They sit in silence for a moment before Keith wriggles out of the blanket nest they’ve wound up in, silently hating himself but knowing he has to leave the warmth. 

“Alright. You head upstairs, I’ll dump the bowls in the sink and join you.”

But when he returns to the main room, Lance is still huddled in a blanket pile on the couch.

“Still here?” asks Keith, sitting back down on the couch and grabbing one end of the blanket. Lance hisses and swats at him, but makes no actual effort to get the blanket back.

“No, really. Why are you still here?”

Lance pouts. 

“...I can’t just want to stay here?”

Keith snorts. “For how long?”

Silence.

“Thought so.”

He stretches out on his back, pulling Lance into his arms. His boyfriend’s forehead rests on his collarbone.    


“See,” Keith mutters. “This is why we don’t watch scary movies at...whatever time of night it is.”

“Atmosphere!” Lance protests, burying his face further into Keith’s chest. Keith rolls his eyes, but leaves them closed. 

“You’re still gonna have nightmares,” he grumbles, clicking off the light. Lance stiffens, fingers tightening where they’re twisted into the fabric of Keith’s shirt, but relaxes after a moment. 

“Well,” he says, and Keith can hear the smile in his voice even if he can’t see him, “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still one of my favourites :)


	19. Hogwarts/HP AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me, a nerd: *reading prompt list* OHO DAY NINETEEN IS IT?

The  Great Lake glitters inky and cool in the lazy afternoon sun. Lance leans against a tree, fiddling with his wand. Keith is on his back, staring at the clouds. 

“Exams coming up,” mumbles the Gryffindor, eyes unfocused. Lance snorts. 

“I’d rather not think about my impending doom, thanks, Mullet.”

Keith rolls up, eyes meeting Lance’s. Internally, he screams -  _ oh for every single time you’ve screwed up Lance why is he looking at you, do you have something on your face? I bet you look ridiculous. Stop staring at him, Lance, stop stop stop - _

Ignoring the way his face is probably bright red, Lance tries to smile. It  _ feels _ painful - he can’t imagine how it must look.

_ We always get the weirdest looks anyways, _ Lance ponders. Considering their friend group - him, a Hufflepuff, and another Hufflepuff professor, a Ravenclaw professor, two Slytherins, and three Gryffindors - that’s apparently the most diverse one Hogwarts students can think of, because they always get stares. Him and Keith especially - has no one ever seen a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff interacting? You’d think they’d be watching Allura and Pidge more, them being the Slytherins.

_ “It’s not because of your houses,” Pidge had told him, bored-looking, flipping through a thick Potions textbook. “It’s because the two of you -” Minor glasses adjustment. “- are ridiculously oblivious gays. Anyone can see the tension about to snap.” _

“You okay?” Keith asks, concern shining in those deep violet eyes. Lance swallows audibly.

“I’m great! In fact, buddy, I just remembered a...uh...thing...I need to do, so if I could just...go…”

He lunges forward to grab his books just as Keith sits fully upright, and that brings his face way too close to Lance’s, way too fast, and before either of them can stop themselves -

Their lips meet.

Lance absolutely melts.

It’s light and soft, and it lasts only a second; it’s an accident, for Merlin’s sake. Keith probably doesn’t even want to kiss him. But still...for that one millisecond, Lance lets himself sink into bliss.

And then they both launch themselves backwards. 

“I - um!” Keith gasps, practically shrieks, and then he grabs his books and sprints in the opposite direction. Lance, bright red, watches him go. Eyes wide, he brings his fingertips up to his lips.

And then he, too, runs. 

--- --- ---

Lance is tired of this.

_ Keith is afraid of this. _

Why is Keith avoiding him? It’s been only a week or something since...the lake...and during that time every single glimpse he’s caught of the Gryffindor has been the same - a brief moment of eye contact before he turns away, pretending to be engrossed in something else. 

_ He’s been avoiding Lance, and Lance can tell. He knows he can. He hasn’t spoken to the other boy in a week, and now a flash of hurt makes its way across his face whenever Keith is caught staring at him. _

He’s going to admit it - it hurts. For a moment, he’d actually fooled himself into thinking that the kiss meant something, accidental or not, and Keith did...well, like him. But in light of recent behaviour...clearly not.

_ Lance probably hates him. Or, even worse, he wants to talk and have a nice little explanation on how Keith’s a perfectly good friend, but no homo because Lance doesn’t feel the same way. The kiss was an accident; he should be able to accept that. But...it still hurts. _

Lance is tired of this, and he’s going to snap soon. 

_ Keith is so, so afraid. _

_ He doesn’t want to lose his friend. _

_ He loves Lance, and he knows Lance doesn’t love him.  _

And then he does. One day, he does - Lance snaps.

--- --- ---

They’re in Herbology, learning about various types of healing plants that Muggles use with hidden magical properties. It would probably be a boring lesson with most, but Adam - sorry,  _ Professor Winters _ \- is just so passionate about it, it’s impossible not to be swept away in his enthusiasm. 

They’re in Herbology, the sun glowing in from the clear roof of the greenhouse, and Lance is partnered with Keith. Of course he is. The moody Gryffindor won’t even meet his eyes.

They’re in Herbology, and they’re poring over a leaf when Keith starts talking. Quiet. Almost to himself.

“I’m...really sorry. About what happened that day at the lake.”

Keith still won’t meet his eyes, but he continues to murmur out the words.

_ “It must have been super awkward for you, and...um, I don’t really know how to say this. I...you’ve probably figured this out. I like you. I...more than platonically like you. And I know you don’t like me, so it’s okay - the kiss was an accident. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, I just -” _

Lance can’t stand to hear another word of this.

_ Keith is slowly but surely turning bright red as he continues to talk to the desk. _

_ And then there’s a light touch to his jaw, and he stutters to a halt. _

_ Lance cups Keith’s face in his hands and kisses him. _

Lance cups Keith’s face in his hands and kisses him.

This time, it’s Keith who melts as the world screeches to a halt around them. The room falls silent except for a quiet clapping and snickering -  _ Adam _ \- but that doesn’t matter, what matters is that Keith is closing his eyes, his lips are pressed firmly against Lance’s, and that this time it’s longer than a second. It seems to be eternity, this crescendo of the past week full of awkward moments -

_ “Unresolved romantic tension resolved, _ ” coughs a voice that sounds suspiciously like Hunk, but Lance chooses to ignore that too in favour of kissing Keith. He doesn’t want to let go - 

_ \- Keith doesn’t want to let go - _

So he doesn’t.

_ So he doesn’t. _

So they don’t.

(They’re interrupted by Professor Winters. “Not that I’m not happy for you,” he says, “But could I actually teach my lesson?”

They both flush, pulling apart. 

“Of course,” coughs Keith, and class resumes as usual - except it’s not as usual now, is it. 

Lance catches Keith’s eye. The other boy gives him a little smile before returning his attention to whatever it is Adam’s explaining, a smile that warms Lance to the core. 

It’s not as usual - it’s even better.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to do the whole 'repeating the sentence/start of sentence' thing and I don't think it's working very well.


	20. Hot Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throwback to day one? Maybe. Possibly.

Lance  eyes the cup suspiciously.

“It’s not coffee, is it? I’m kind of hoping for coffee, but any more caffeine in my system and I may explode.”

“That’d be messy,” grins Keith. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to kill you. It’s just hot chocolate.”

“Hmm…” Lance picks up the steaming mug. “That’s exactly what I’d say if I  _ was _ about to kill me!”

Keith snorts. “Not like you don’t want coffee. Still, the reason I’m giving you this is because you need something that isn’t coffee. And since you refuse to drink water and keep yourself healthy, I’m bribing you with chocolate.”

“You didn’t make this with water, did you?” Lance asks, hands wrapped around the mug. An exaggerated look of indignation crosses Keith’s face. 

“I would never.”

“Good.”

They’re in their cozy little kitchen-dining room, Lance perched atop the counter while Keith leans against the stove. The cold grey light streams through the windows - it’s a rainy day, cold even for October. 

Speaking of which...it’s October. Autumn.

“I thought hot chocolate was a winter thing?” Lance grins. Keith tilts his head, observing the boy on the countertop.

“Well, yeah, but you’ve been craving it for weeks,” he says. A ball of warmth gathers in Lance’s stomach. He chooses to let it be.

“It’s autumn tradition,” mutters Lance, “But I can’t help but feel suspicious…”

Keith shrugs, picks up his mug, casually takes a sip. “Do what you will.”

Looking back, Lance should have seen the sudden casualness. He should have been more suspicious of his boyfriend. But Lance is an idiot, so he copies Keith - swallows a mouthful of hot chocolate.

It is really good, he’ll admit, but it’s also  _ really hot _ . 

He gasps, shrieks, splutters unintelligible words for a few seconds before turning his gaze suspiciously on Keith

“...You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”

Keith shrugs and takes another sip, smiling. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _ You burned my tongue! _ How are you doing that?” Lance adds as Keith takes another leisurely gulp of the drink.

“Magic, I guess,” Keith smirks. 

Lance pouts. “You’re terrible.”

In response, Keith leans over and pours a veritable mountain of whipped cream atop Lance’s hot chocolate. Lance manages to hold his pout for...oh, five seconds? 

“How do you  _ always _ know what to do?” he marvels, staring at the rapidly cooling drink. “Half the time  _ I  _ don’t know what to do.”

Keith returns his attention to his own mug, smile still faintly visible on his face. “I guess that’s just why you love me.” 

“That, and so many other reasons,” Lance replies, swooping in to steal a quick kiss.

Keith’s face flushes. “Really, Lance?” He crosses the small room to join Lance on the countertop, crossing his legs and leaning ever so slightly against him. 

Lance smirks. “Consider it payback.”

The hot chocolate, now that it isn’t burning his tongue, actually is really good. What makes it even better is having Keith by his side while they enjoy it, joking and jostling, stealing little kisses, being happy. Being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aljfs;dkdfjk I will use this ending so so many times *shaking head*  
> *coughwhatcanisayimasuckerforahappyendingcough*


	21. Blanket Forts and Fairy Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by Sleeping At Last's Two

"Two questions. What are you doing, and why am I not surprised?” Keith deadpans, looking around the room.

Lance glares from where he’s standing on a chair, string lights in hand.

“It’s for _aesthetic_ , Kogane. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Keith smiles. “Of course you wouldn’t. Need me to hand you the other end of the lights? And...you know, maybe _unwrap_ you from said lights?’

Lance raises his chin, puffs out his chest. “I, in fact -”

He looks down. Deflates.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The dark-haired boy laughs. “I should have figured you’d get stuck. Maybe I should leave you like this for a while.”

“Nooo.” Lance pouts, draping himself on the wall dramatically. “Free me, noble Keith. You are my only hope.”

“I fear it is too late, my love! By the time I do untangle you, you will be long since gone.” Keith shrugs and half-turns away. “Tragedy.”

“Keeeiiith…”

“You’re impossible, have I told you that?” Keith laughs, unwinding the cord and helping Lance down from the chair, then gently placing a kiss atop his head. “What were you even trying to do? I think you’ve replaced the ceiling with string lights by now.”

Lance glances up. “There aren’t _that_ many. Besides, like I said, aesthetic. Help me with this?”

He gathers up a stack of blankets before taking note of the room they’re in. Keith’s eyes gleam with understanding as he realizes his boyfriend’s plan.

“How could I say no?”

They spread the blankets around the room, flinging them across rearranged furniture and piles of pillows. It starts off low, near the edges of the room, then rises into a dramatic arch over the string lights, hanging in the center of the room.

“How’s it so high up but so low down?” Keith wonders, staring at their work. Lance is already burrowing into the blanket fort.

“Doesn’t matter! Get in here.”

Keith squeezes in next to Lance. There’s definitely more space, but they stay like that anyways - on their backs, pressed together, watching the string lights - interspersed with tiny paper lanterns - swaying.

“It’s always so warm and cozy,” Lance mutters, snuggling into Keith’s side. He sighs out a little agreement.

And then he flips over, ending up lying on Lance. It’s even warmer like this, piled up in the midst of stacks of pillows and little glowing lights.

“Keith! Get off, I’m dying here.”

Keith smirks, closing his eyes and cuddling into Lance’s chest. “Nah, I think I’ll stay here. Maybe take a nap, you know how it is.”

“ _Keith!_ Keith…” Lance sighs. “Figures.”

They lie like that awhile, wrapped in a soft silence. Lance’s fingers find their way into Keith’s hair, and there’s no way he’s moving after this.

“You know, I was kidding about the heaviness thing,” Lance says softly. “But really, you’ve gotten so light. When did you last eat, Keith?”

...Sunday. But he’s not going to say that and ruin the evening. Besides, he’s gone longer without food.

“I’m worried, love,” Lance says into the air. “You should see yourself - you look about ready to pass out. You’re overworking yourself. I’m gonna say what you said to me; take a break before you drive yourself into the ground.”

He shifts slightly, and Keith lets himself fall forwards, lets himself slip further into sleep.

He shouldn’t. He’s got a deadline, and this whole evening goes against his entire schedule. He’s screaming at himself to _get back to work_ , but that voice sounds faint and far away. Instead, the louder voice speaks softer, speaks in a tone that reminds him of Lance. Because it is.

“I’m going to keep you here, you know. You’re going to get some sleep if it kills me.”

Keith grumbles, moves to a more comfortable position. There’s a breath of silence before Lance speaks again.

“I love you, okay? I’ll say it when you’re asleep and when you’re awake and whenever. A thousand times over. _I love you, Keith_ , no strings attached. If you don’t take care of yourself, I’ll do it for you. And that starts with getting you to sleep.”

He’s practically asleep already, hanging on to Lance’s words as he slips into unconsciousness.

Keith’s breathing evens out, and Lance smiles, tipping his head back against a stack of pillows. It’s a mess, honestly, but it’s their kind of mess, and he couldn’t be happier with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favourites, also yes I will shut the quiznak up in the end notes because my writing doesn't suck  
> (There are you happy Windy, it's me and self esteem XD)


	22. Vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VAMPIRES  
> Plot twist: both are monsters. Neither is a vampire.

"You look ridiculous.”

Lance blows Keith an exaggerated air kiss. “Thanks, you look wonderful too.”

“We’re not even vampires,” Keith mutters, crossing his arms. “And I can’t believe you convinced me to turn the literal _Aegis of Dark_ into a costume cloak.”

“It likes me,” Lance protests. “And besides, it’s supposed to be used as a disguise.”

They start walking, making their way through the rooms up to the highest floor of Pidge’s house and then a little bit more, up to the roof.

“Somehow, I don’t think this is what the creator of the cloak had in mind.”

“Still, it’s super convenient. We didn’t even have to get fake fangs!”

“Yes. These fangs are real, Lance, and most likely venomous. Would you like to find out? I’m sure putting you out of your misery would be no problem.”

There’s a beat of silence as Keith realizes his mistake: this is _Lance_ he’s talking to.

“Kinky,” he grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Can...can he shove this idiot off the roof? Please? He can’t deal with this.

“I’m going to choose to ignore that.”

“Go ahead and tryyy,” Lance sing-songs. “How long do you think it’ll take anyone to notice we’re gone?”

“Honestly? I think they’re expecting it. We’re bound to disappear eventually.”

“Boom! Into the shadows fades the prince of darkness -”

Keith smacks Lance upside the head. “Not even the crown prince!”

Lance shrugs. “Still a prince. If not the prince of darkness, _the prince of my heart_.”

Keith gags. “Please never speak again.”

He’ll deny the blush that creeps across his face, of course. Lance is just a friend. Lance flirts with everyone. _It doesn’t mean anything_.

_Other than that you’re hopelessly crushing on him,_ Keith’s brain decides to say. _Shut up shut up shut up,_ he mentally yells back.

Keith decides to sit in the middle of the roof. The moon is clear, the stars are bright, he’s sitting next to Lance - both in ridiculous costumes, vampires look nothing like this - and they’re just...there.

_Two bros, chilling on a rooftop, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,_ a voice sings cheerfully in his head, and Keith almost yelps aloud. When did he turn the mental link on? _Did_ he, or is Shiro just prying?

_Privacy!_

_Why? Trust me, I’ll look away if you’re doing anything over PG-13, baby brother._

“Shiro,” Keith growls, glaring at the sky. Lance laughs.

“Is he inside your head again? That’s still super-cool, by the way. Hey, Shiro!”

_Hey, Lance. You being good to my bro?_

_Shiro, leave my brain._

_Well, if you insist._

Finally, silence. Keith coughs and turns back to Lance.

“Well, that was awkward,” Lance grins, and Keith silently thanks the spirits of all those deceased and demonic that Lance can start conversations so _easily_.

“I’d hate for you to have that ability,” grins Keith instead. “Can you imagine?”

“You’d never get a moment of peace, buddy,” Lance smirks, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders.

They stay there, watching the stars gleam and chatting about anything and everything until Shiro sends for them again.

_Keith? You may want to come downstairs now. Things just got...interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know where I got "Shiro can speak into Keith's brain" but it does give me a lot of brogane-blackmail options so...


	23. Keith's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mwahahahaHAHAHAHA THE WHOLE FAM IS HERE

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DEAREST EMOTIONAL DISASTER!”

Keith blinks drowsily, finally decides to open one eye - just one, to see what’s happening. When he does, he closes it again.

“...Lance. It’s way too early for this.”

His boyfriend waves his hand dismissively. “12 AM’s never too early to wish your favourite My Chemical Romance song a happy birthday.”

Keith just grumbles and shifts his head away, hoping he can hide in the pile of pillows.

The only warning he gets is a soft kiss placed on his temple. Then his world is spinning, whirling, and _cold cold cold_ -

Keith glares at Lance from the floor. “You didn’t just do that.”

Lance, still holding the blanket’s he’s yanked _very rudely_ off Keith, blinks innocently.

“Didn’t I? Happy birthday, anyways. You can go back to sleep now.”

He sounds _too_ pleased with himself. Keith narrows his eyes, trying to maintain a frown.

“I’m taking you down with me,” he says, and proceeds to tackle Lance. They wrestle halfheartedly for a moment before Keith pins Lance - it’s easy, even though he’s just woken up.

“You win. Whatever shall I _do_ ,” groans Lance. Keith smirks.

“Let me sleep. It is my birthday, after all.”

“Well, who am I to deny the birthday boy?”

“You are terrible.” A kiss, to the tip of the nose.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

\---

Keith wakes up - at a much more _sensible_ time than 12 AM - to Lance’s arms around him. As usual, _he wants this to be as usual._ And if everything goes well...if Lance says yes...it’ll be the usual.

“Figures you’d be asleep,” he mutters. “Woke up at twelve, didn’t you?”

Trying to pry himself away without waking Lance turns out to be impossible.

“All for you, babe,” Lance murmurs. They blink themselves awake like that, sharing lazy kisses and slowly adjusting to the real world, to the morning light filtering through the windows.

“Happy birthday,” Lance says. Keith shakes his head ruefully.

“You’ve already said that.”

“I’ll say it as many times as I want,” Lance grins.

\---

“Tea is boring, though. Coffee is a hundred times better.”

Keith glares over the rim of his cup. “Your disgusting ground beans that hop you up on energy so you can’t sleep? No thanks, I can keep myself awake for seventy-two hours if necessary.”

Lance opens his mouth to protest, then stops, processing the information. “...is this from experience…?”

Keith nods grimly, taking another sip of his tea. They’re standing in the kitchen, arguing about the merits of tea and coffee - or maybe just talking, the line blurs easily with them. _Them_.

“ _How?_ It’s something in your magical leaf juice, isn’t it. I knew it was suspicious.”

He laughs. Full-heartedly, surely. “Sure, Lance, sure. I’m superhuman.”

“Well, you’ve gotta survive all those milkshakes and ice cream cones while being _lactose intolerant_ somehow,” Lance glares. Keith grins, draining the mug.

“What can I say? I like to live life on the edge.”

“ _Edgelord_ ,” Lance says, grinning. “You’re not even denying it.”

Keith stands up, knocking his shoulder into Lance’s and getting a hip-bump in return.

“Come on,” he says, dropping the mug in the sink and hopping up on the counter to face Lance.

“Wherever you said we’d be going, we’d better get there fast.”

Lance smirks. “But of course.”

\---

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you _told_ me where we were going,” Keith points out. Lance hums, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but that’d probably ruin the surprise. Besides, can’t you tell? I thought you’d have this path memorised by now.”

Keith frowns.

The turns do feel familiar, the building on that corner, that cluster of trees…

His bike zips past curves and corners that are basically muscle memory, and he realises.

“You didn’t,” he says, grinning, and Lance huffs - a little happy snort that usually means he’s smiling.

“Everyone’s there waiting. Step on it, Kogane!”

“That’s cars, not - nevermind,” Keith laughs.

They arrive at the park soon, and Keith leaves his bike where they always do.

“Took you long enough,” Pidge grins the moment they walk into view. “Happy birthday, fellow cryptid!”

“Thank you, you gremlin.”

Hunk tackles them in a hug. “Happy birthday, man! You’re officially -”

“A year closer to dying, yes,” Keith quips, extracting himself from the hug. As soon as he lets down his guard, though, he’s wrapped in another rib-crushing embrace.

“Happy birthday, little brother,” Shiro chuckles, - actually chuckles, are you fifty years old? - stepping back and releasing Keith. He only gets a moment to breathe before Allura and Coran tackle him, while Matt awkwardly pats him on the head:

“No offense. I’d hug you if I could. Happy birthday, though!”

They lie on the grass, in a huge, messy pile of people. An hour or so later, they’re still there, talking and laughing.

Keith smiles, hand closing around Lance’s. _Happy birthday to me,_ he thinks. It’s completely sincere.

\---

“Thank you, though,” Keith says to the night sky. “For...them.”

He glances over at his friends’ faces, all bright and happy and alive. They can’t hear him - they’re plotting something. He can guess what it is, of course. Lance is leading the conversation. They’re doing something for him.

“I never thought I’d have a family again,” he says quietly. Maybe a tear slips down his face. Maybe not.

“Thank you. For letting me have them. For letting me have my family.”

He’ll go over and interrupt their little meeting, startle them. He’ll kiss Lance, ruffle Pidge’s hair when she complains, give a smile to Allura (she’ll probably respond with a hip-check) and a fist bump to Coran. He’ll hug Hunk, and do the Broganes handshake with his brother (Shiro insisted on having one when Keith was adopted, and he didn’t know well enough to say no back then). Matt will give an exaggerated pout, but Keith hasn’t forgotten about him and Adam, and he’ll hug them to say so. And if anyone asks him why he’s being so huggable all of a sudden, he’s just going to smile at his family and move on.

It’s a good birthday. Nothing particularly life-changing has happened, but he doesn’t want that. He’s got what he wants - he’s got something stable and sure; he’s got a family. That’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late birthday, you emo trash. The fandom loves you.


	24. Autumn Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what the rough first idea of this was:
> 
> Lance: your ensemble is very gay, but it’s autumn. We can be gayer  
> Keith: …  
> Lance: *noticing people staring* *scream* THAT’S RIGHT I’M BI THIS MAN RIGHT HERE IS MY BF HE’S GAY AS HELL say hi Keith AND THAT’S THE WAY THINGS ARE  
> Random Passerby **(adam)** who was about to tell them they were cute: oh….okay  
> Lance is very protective of Keith **even though hes a few feet shorter** Not in this AU, lance is always taller to me XD  
> Car crosses road several feet ahead  
> Lance: STAHP  
> Keith:???  
> Lance: THE CAR

"Impossible. Your style is already Maximum Gay. But...it’s flannel season, you get to wear twice the gay…” Lance paces, looking for all the world like this is a serious matter. Keith raises an eyebrow.

“Do I want to know what’s happening in that brain of yours?”

“ _Pure genius,_ ” Lance smirks. “I’m trying to figure out a way to get you with the times. If you won’t cut your mullet -”

“ _It’s not a mullet!"_

“Mhm. Anyways, I’m at least going to get you to try a new style.”

“Even if I ‘rock this one, technically, and maybe my mullet isn’t so bad after all’?” Keith asks in quotes, grinning at the redness that spreads across Lance’s face.

“You didn’t hear any of that,” he insists. “That’s just - lies. Lies and anarchy.”

“ _Mhm,_ ” Keith says, exaggerating Lance’s tone from before. “Absolutely, babe. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I’ll be back with _outfits,_ ” Lance warns before retreating up the stairs.

When he returns, Keith immediately drops his face into the couch cushions, bright red. Footsteps sound closer and closer to him…

“Hey, Keith. You okay?”

Keith sputters a bit, waves one hand around vaguely. “Put some _clothes_ on for God’s sake Lance, can’t you see I’m dying here?”

“...I’m wearing clothes, Keith.”

“It’s a _crop top!"_

There’s a moment of silence before Lance starts snickering.

“Crop tops are very autumnal, you know. You should try one on.”

“No! And it’s not autumnal at all. Autumn is cold. Crop tops are, I dunno, summer stuff. Spring stuff.”

“Oh…so are you saying you’d be fine with wearing one of these in the _summer?"_

Keith’s face burns even brighter. “I’m not wearing a crop top, Lance.”

Lance sighs. “Oh, fine. But flannels?”

Keith shrugs. “Flannels are good. I like flannels.”

He regrets the words the moment he says them. A wicked glint appears in Lance’s eyes. He tugs at Keith’s arm, pulling him up.

“We’ve got a starting point, then!” he crows. “Let’s go!”

Keith laughs, letting himself be dragged away. You can’t stop Lance on a roll.

(But maybe you can slow that roll down?)

(It turns out you can. Kissing the forehead of a Wild Lance slows it down to about a walking pace - a quiet, blushy walking pace. It’s the cheat sheet of sorts - affection, that is.)

(Keith’s got the cheat sheet down pat.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kEiTH's gOt tHE cHeAT ShEet dOwN PAt  
> *lets self fall into abyss*


	25. Telling Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storytime suckers  
> Also since none of these are technically connected please ignore the massive, gaping plot hole between this one and Day 31 (I'm pretty sure it's 31)

"When was the first time you punched a kid in the face?” Lance asks brightly, trotting down the stairs. Keith raises his eyebrows, lowering his book (and he was just getting to the good part, when Macbeth finally works up the guts to stab the King - okay, maybe he’s basically forced into it, but the plot progresses at least).

“I’m pretty sure I was five. Someone insulted my hippo,” he replies. “Why the sudden curiosity?”

Lance nods, validating the hippo in his mind - Keith can see it behind his eyes.

“No reason. Just...thought we should try to get to know each other better.”

Keith tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve known each other for around half our lives, probably more? I’d count the years, but I think my point is made.”

“Well, yeah,” Lance shrugs. “So spill all your embarrassing secrets! Things I don’t know as your friend. Things I don’t know as your roommate. Things I don’t know as your boyfriend.”

The word sparks a thousand butterflies in his stomach. Even now.

Keith hums, moves over to make room for Lance on the couch. “Alright, but you’ve got to tell me things about yourself in return. And you’re gonna have to be pretty detailed, cause there isn’t much we don’t know about each other.”

“Fair enough…” Lance pauses. “...I cried for a week straight once people told me that animated movies weren’t real life.”

Keith’s deadpan expression doesn’t budge. “I was aware, Lance.”

“Fine, fine. I used to play guitar. I’m learning piano right now, though.”

It takes a huge amount of willpower to not smile, and a hint of it sneaks in anyways.

“I know, Lance. I’m the one teaching you piano. Or at least trying to.”

Lance sits upright, feigning offence. “Oh, like you’re any better when I’m trying to get new chords out of you?”

“I am, actually,” Keith grins. Lance nudges his shoulder.

“You spare me no shreds of dignity, Kogane.”

“I once had a deep connection to Po from Teletubbies,” Keith says in response, staring blankly ahead. Lance snorts.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could.”

“But...why?” Lance is doubled over by now.

“I don’t know. I liked red, she was red. That’s all I can guess.”

“This is gold,” Lance wheezes. Keith glares, but there’s no venom behind it.

“And you?”

“I believe I once tried to drink a whole bottle of shampoo.”

“ _Did you have a death wish?_ ”

“Honestly, I’m not even sure.”

They banter the afternoon away, sharing stories and tangents back and forth. There’s actually not that much about Lance that Keith doesn’t know, he notes. Lance knows what’s important about him, so many little things that don’t matter, and now even more. Some that he wishes he could forget.

“But really,” Lance says, hours later, staring out the window. “There’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask ever since I met you.”

Keith blinks. “I...well.” He looks over at his boyfriend. “Go on, then.”

Their eyes meet.

“...Was the mullet intentional?”

(Keith smacks Lance in the face with a pillow instead of responding.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fingers twitch* something is bugging me about this but I can't figure out what it is...


	26. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Same AU Continues TM!

Keith presses the pad of his thumb to the tip of his black-purple blade, registering the sting dully, in the back of his mind. Blood rushes up - not red. Black-purple.

He huffs, stands up, swipes the inky dark stain away.

He’s always been aware that he wasn’t human - that he was made of the element of Darkness itself. He’s always been the unimportant brother, though - _Shiro_ is the crown prince, the one who’s on-track to mastery of his ability. Keith’s just been there as...as what? As decorative royalty. At least with Lance, he’s got a purpose.

Just the thought brings a frankly idiotic smile to his face. The werewolf is the definition of chaotic good - and teaching another being of Darkness to handle themselves isn’t the hardest of jobs. Mostly it’s just little smirks and silent sighs and untouchable happiness.

And...he’s going to appear in a few minutes. He sighs, wills his red cloak to unfold out of his jacket - the _aegis_ of Dark, the symbol of royalty. It’s protective, can’t be torn off, and has many forms. Thankfully, the hood covers his whole head, even going the extra mile and casting his face in shadow. He examines the tree line, waiting for Lance to appear.

And appear he does, out of nowhere, whisking into existence behind him.

“Check it out! I’ve got that moon-cloaking thing _down pat,_ I’d say. What do you think?”  
His voice rings out behind Keith, cheerful and happy and human. Keith doesn’t turn.

“...Keith?”

“You’re here,” he forces out. “Let’s get going.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strides into the trees. After a moment, he hears the tell-tale crunch of leaves behind him. His new and improved hearing picks up the distance - Lance is tagging behind him closely, almost beside him.

“You okay?” he asks softly. Keith stops, lowers his gaze.

“You’re wearing the cloak today,” Lance notes, moving to step in front of him. “And the hood’s up. Are you okay, Keith?”

He breaks.

Not violently.

Somewhat softly. Sadly.

He looks up. Drops his hood.

“Does it,” he spits out, quiet and soft and venomous, “ _look_ like I am?”

There’s a beat of silence. Lance doesn’t even move - Keith’s aware that he looks like a monster, shooting daggers with his eyes at the other boy.

Finally, Lance speaks. It isn’t what he’s expecting.

“...pfft.”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“You...you’re fluffy,” Lance chokes out. He’s laughing now. Is there anything laughable about the demonic form he’s stuck in?

“I’m not fluffy,” he says instead, crossing his arms. Lance laughs even harder.

“You’re fluffy, and you’re pouting - you’re downright _adorable._  This is pure gold.”

“This isn’t funny!” Keith insists, but a snicker escapes him. Lance has that stupid effect on him, getting him to laugh even when he feels like laughing’s the last thing he could do.

“Except it is,” Lance continues. Keith glares through a teary smile _(why does interacting with McClain involve so many emotions at once?)_.

“I’ve literally turned into a demon!”

“Not necessarily,” Lance says, matter-of-factly, as if he’s suddenly an expert. 

“And why’s that?”

The boy in blue shrugs.

“Same principle,” he says. “Before you started helping me with the whole shifting thing, I thought it was something I couldn’t control either. This is just another form, right? So focus on shifting back to your human body.”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you looking like this,” grumbles Keith.

“Okay then,” says Lance. Just that. That’s it.

“Okay?” echoes Keith.

“Okay,” repeats Lance, firm. “If you’re stuck like this, that’s okay. It’s just another form - you’re still you.”

Keith feels like laughing, even though it’s not funny in the slightest. “I’m a _monster_ , Lance.”

Lance looks him dead in the eyes, normally blue to formerly violet. Yellow to yellow.

“So?”


	27. Free Theme Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hint: the theme I chose is Candy Apples and Hand Holding

"But what _are_ they?” Keith pouts, staring at the suspiciously shiny red sphere. Lance resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. _Too much exposure to this much cuteness could kill,_ he reminds himself. _Not even being his boyfriend (_ *insert internal screaming* _) ensures resistance against it._

“Just apples covered in candy. Nothing big.” Lance shrugs, holding up his own candy apple.

“How are you supposed to eat them, then?” Keith questions. He pokes at the red shell.

Lance opens his mouth to answer. Closes it again.

“I...actually have no idea. I just kinda _eat_ them, you know?” He shrugs, shoving one hand in his jacket pocket.

They’re walking through the park again, their friends having left them alone (“Go, be disgustingly gay somewhere else,” Pidge had said, pushing them towards the path they always walk). The whole gang had found a candy apple stand, and needless to say, Lance was _utterly horrified_ when he learned that his boyfriend (oh gods, his _boyfriend_ ) had ‘never tried one before’. Tried! As if one can simply eat a candy apple and _forget_ about it. No, nope, not at all. It’s Lance’s job to make sure that not only does Keith eat a candy apple, he joins the side of candy apple lovers against heathens like Veronica’s squad.

The lady at the stand had given them a knowing once-over when they’d first arrived, shook her head and smiled when handing them their apples, stifled a laugh when the ‘I-am-paying-shut-up’ argument broke out. She clearly understands, far better than Lance, how one actually...does the thing. How one acts like a good S.O. and whatnot.

Keith awkwardly tries to bite the apple, and Lance flinches at the sickening _crack_ that emanates from the sphere. Or maybe that’s Keith’s teeth. Either way, probably not good.

“Ow! Mmph...pff.. _ow_ ,” Keith yelps immediately. Lance may or may not start laughing.

Wait. Laughing? Is that...a good boyfriend thing to do? He cuts himself off mid-wheeze. It probably isn’t.

Keith pauses in his groaning to squint at Lance suspiciously.

“...Are you okay? You just kind of cut yourself off there.”

Lance looks away, trying to casually bite into his candy apple. He fails.

“Okay, that hurts. I’m joining you in the suffering club, Kogane,” he grumbles. Keith snorts.

“Understand my pain, Lance.”

They keep walking. Lance works at the shell, trying to soften it. Just a bit - enough to maintain the crunch, but not impenetrable.

“Really, though,” says Keith. “You’ve been acting kind of...stiff. Awkward. All day, ever since Pidge…”

He trails off. Lance can see the exact moment the realization hits him.

“Oh,” he whispers, repeats it louder: “ _Oh._ ” And one more time, for the sake of it.

“ _OH._ ”

Lance focuses on his apple, casting his gaze to the side.

“I just...don’t know how to do it,” he whispers finally. They’ve stopped walking, nothing but trees and sky and _them_. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Exactly what you’ve been doing,” Keith says firmly. Lance scowls.

“ _Lance._ ”

He looks up, meets Keith’s eyes.

“You don’t have to act any different,” he says. “I fell in love with _you_. Just you. Purely you. You don’t have to change anything, the way you act or whether or not you laugh at me. Frankly,” a little crooked smile, “I’d be a little worried if you didn’t laugh at me when I do something stupid like that.”

Lance smiles back as they start walking again, the tenseness dissolving. Not all at once...but slowly. Slowly and surely. It’s a definite start, and a pretty good one.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I...can I hold your hand?”

A soft smile. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep inhale*  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA -


	28. 1 Hour of 'Spooky Scary Skeletons'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness. Fluff. That's it.

For once, he actually thinks he’s gotten away with it. Getting some peace and quiet, that is. Keith’s trying to figure out a particularly difficult finger position on his - Lance’s - guitar, sitting cross-legged on the couch and enjoying the glow from the darkening sky outside when he thinks it - _where is my boyfriend? This is too quiet_.

As if summoned by the very thought, a discordant clattering of some form of percussion instrument - a marimba, maybe? - drifts down the stairs. Keith’s mostly-occupied mind takes a moment to process it. His eyes go wide a fraction of a moment too late - the ‘music’ is already blaring through the room.

“ _LANCE._ ”

“You called?” purrs Lance, honest to god _sliding_ down the rail. They don’t even have a big fancy staircase like the ones you’re supposed to slide down - he just does it through the power of Lance, Keith supposes.

He puts down the guitar, closes his eyes, tries to block out the thumping and _form_ _words_.

“What - why,” he says, not even phrasing a question. “ _Why._ ”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says that _liar_ , and proceeds to sing along to the definitely-not-natural voice booming from...wherever the music source is hidden.

“Laaance…” Keith groans, hiding his face in his hands. Lance stops his impromptu dance.

“Oh, of course! I have something else cued up for you, dearest.”

Keith drops his hands, face going pale. “Oh, no. No, don’t do this -”

He flinches, clapping his hands over his ears, as the note rings out painfully loud: G. The opening to Welcome to the Black Parade continues to drift out of Lance’s pocket ( _target acquired_ ).

“Well, if you’d _prefer_ the other one, who am I to say no?” Lance continues, flipping the song back - _spooky scary skeletons send shivers down your spine…_

Keith shudders. “You are the worst, Lance.”

Lance continues to sing along to the song as Keith retreats to the couch again. He tries to pick up the guitar again, but ends up just giggling at his boyfriend’s antics.

“We’re so sorry, skeletons,” Lance croons. “You’re so misunderstood. You only want to socialize -”

“But I don’t think we should,” Keith calls drily from where he’s sitting. Lance whoops, delighted, and Keith shakes his head, smiles, looks back down at the guitar.

“They’ll sneak from their sarcophagus,” Lance starts after a while, pulling Keith up and twirling him. Keith steps away, sitting down again. He glares halfheartedly.

“And just won’t leave you be,” he snaps, a little melody creeping its way into the line. Lance snickers. Keith watches him dance away again.

“Spooky scary skeletons,” Lance sings in a deep falsetto later. Keith, suppressing laughter, joins him for the second half: “ _Are silly all the same_.”

Lance’s eyes light up as he tugs at Keith’s arms again. “They’ll smile and scrabble slowly by…”

“And drive you so insane,” Keith laughs, giving in and letting Lance spin him around.

“Sticks and stones will break your bones -”

“They seldom let you snooze,” Keith quips, sticking his tongue out for emphasis. Lance pouts, but they keep spinning around to the tune, laughing as they stumble along, catching each other.

“Is this...the song should be over,” Keith realizes with sudden horror. Lance looks away.

“This... _may_ be the hour-long version.” 

_“LANCE._ ”

\---

“Was it really a good idea to let them get their own house, though?” Shiro asks, one hand pressing his phone to his ear, balancing a cup of coffee, and the keys to his and Adam’s own house clutched in the other. The house is empty when he enters - his fiance’s at the Garrison for a meeting or something. He’s not entirely sure.

“It’ll be fine,” Hunk’s voice rings out of the speaker. “This is Lance and Keith we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” Shiro points out, entering the house and locking the door behind him.

“But…” Hunk pauses, out of arguments. “Yeah, no. They’re probably dead. Go check on them.”

“Right,” Shiro sighs. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

\---

“Hello?” Shiro calls, ringing the doorbell and waiting - _oh, wait, you have a key, Takashi_.

Well, he doesn’t exactly want to walk in on his baby brother and his boyfriend...but if no one answers the door in the next few seconds, yeah, he’s using the key.

There’s a faint, high-pitched noise coming from behind the door, but when he crosses the threshold of the house it increases tenfold. Or something like that - it’s a barrage on his ears anyways.

And...if he listens closely, it sounds almost like…?

_“Holy quiznak! NO!”_

He steps into the next room, pace quickening.

His baby brother is lying on his back in the middle of the room, eyes closed, face seemingly serene but a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Lance is screaming. Exaggerated, fake-dramatic, drawn-out screaming.

_“NOOO -”_

“Look at what you’ve done,” Keith smirks, eyes still closed. “You killed your boyfriend.”

Neither of them has noticed him yet.

As quietly as he can, Shiro leaves. There’s going to be some calm when he gets home, at least. Adam’s due back by now, surely. He can just sit and try to erase that from his brain.

\---

Keith sits up and high-fives his boyfriend, listening to the noise of Shiro’s car pulling out of their driveway.

“You know, we probably should have stopped the theatrics when he came in,” he muses, intertwining his fingers with Lance’s. The brown-haired boy snorts.

“Absolutely not. Shiro - and for that matter, the rest of the gang - knew exactly what they were getting into when Shiro let us move in together.”

“After all this time, you’d think they’d learn,” Keith agrees.

They laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh poor poor naive Shiro  
> You should have seen this coming


	29. Halloween As Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I draw my inspiration from another fic I read once (argh what's the title). All hail the Teletubbies costumes.

“I remember it now,” Shiro announces, entering the room. Keith looks up, frowning.

“Remember...what?”

The others turn to them, too, eager to hear this long-lost memory. Lance in particular scoots closer: “Oh, blackmail? We’re always open, Shiro.”

Shiro looks up, meeting Keith’s eyes with a frankly _evil_ expression.

“Your Teletubbies obsession, of course.”

Pidge bursts out in triumphant cackles. Lance joins her, crowing in joy. Allura and Hunk, bless them, giggle a bit - okay, no, they’re laughing full-heartedly at him now, too. Keith fumes, half-smiling through his glare. Romelle snorts, Coran chuckles a bit, Matt is falling off the couch wheezing. Adam nods proudly at Shiro.

Keith cannot believe the chaos his brother managed to sow with five words.

“This is brilliant,” cackles Allura. “How old was he?”

“Five, I think,” Shiro grins. Matt slams a hand on the coffee table, glancing wide-eyed at Pidge. Both siblings look equally stunned.

“Wasn’t that the year…”

“That you two convinced us to go as Dipsy and Po, and we bumped into -”

Hunk sits upright, eyes gleaming. “Two people dressed as Laa-Laa and Tinky-Winky, right?”

Lance’s eyes bug out. “Oh my gods, was that us?”

“That was us, apparently,” Keith grumbles. Romelle bursts out laughing.

“Now _this_ I want to hear. Tell us what you remember, Kogane."

\---

He doesn’t remember much, actually.

_Lance...Lance remembers a bit. A smidgeon. A tad._

_Enough._

\---

Pidge is tiny. Back then, Keith was tiny as well, and so the height difference isn’t so noticeable.

They’re in their Teletubbies costumes, Pidge actually taller than Keith - for once - because of the antenna, Keith’s is circular while hers is sticking straight up. Ironic, really, as neither of the two are straight, though they won’t know till later.

**Why do Shiro’s surrogate children always insist on making gay jokes every other second? Then again, maybe they learned that from him.**

His candy bag is half full, Pidge’s only around a quarter - no one, so far, has picked up that he’s actually older. Adam is snickering in the background whenever someone comments on Pidge’s “ _adorable_ little brother”, and Shiro just loses it.

_Hunk is taller than Lance. It actually took him years to accept it - every time Lance had hit a growth spurt, Hunk was always a few inches taller. Back then, he was still in denial, saying he’d be taller someday._

_Anyway. Their costumes and their height don’t quite work out as according to canon -_

Technically, Dipsy is supposed to be taller than Po, not just given an edge because of their antenna - but it’s a kids’ show, who cares about canon?

_\- but they both refuse to leave their favourite colours (and eventually trademark colours) behind. Luckily, that worked out. So Lance, in blue, accompanied Hunk, in yellow. The people at the door always look around behind them, possibly expecting to see two other kids in similar costumes, only to smile rather awkwardly when they’re met with Hunk’s mothers, who always have a smile and an explanation ready._

Keith isn’t quite sure what the people at the door are looking for when they search the area behind him and Pidge, but it’s always apparently funny to Adam and Shiro, whose laughter becomes more and more persistent with every time it happens.

**And he cannot believe that aforementioned surrogate children had actually met before high school. It’s honestly the kind of ridiculous storybook thing that only ever seems to happen to them.**

_It changes, though, once. They’re at a door, about to turn and leave, when the couple at the door smiles brightly and says “Oh, you don’t want to wait for your friends?”._

_Lance turns, looks around, and almost immediately spots two specks of colour coming up the driveway: red and green. Po and Dipsy._

He doesn’t remember how it happens. They walk up to a door, another group of trick-or-treaters there, and then the tall woman moves aside and he sees them: two spots of colour. Blue and yellow. Laa-Laa and Tinky-Winky.

**He doesn’t know if he can make it through this idiotic story without dying of laughter. Actually dying. Probably for lack of oxygen.**

_He almost believes it’s fate._

_The kid dressed in red steps in front of the green one (who looks to be taller) and glares at him with deep, unblinking violet eyes. Did he steal his idea or something? Why is he so mad?_

_“Who are you?” demands the red boy_.

**Did they actually fight the first time they met? Hold him up, he can’t go on. Shiro has been brought down, tell the King’s birds.**

The boy with the blue costume and the blue, blue eyes blinks curiously at Keith from behind the taller, yellow one.

“Who are you?” asks Keith, perfectly calmly in his opinion, but Adam nudges him with his shin.

“ _Keith._ Be polite.”

_“Isn’t that polite enough?” says the boy, looking up at the caramel-haired man. He turns back to Lance and Hunk._

_“...Who...are you?” he tries again. The black-haired man snorts._

_“I’m Lance,” Lance declares, sticking out a hand. The red boy stares at him blankly._

_“Shake the hand,” suggests the green girl. Red boy nods as if all the world’s mysteries have been solved and takes Lance’s hand._

He doesn’t remember the other two’s names, but the person at the door is laughing, as are the other adults. Keith remembers that. He remembers the yellow boy’s overwhelming cheerfulness, the way he fills Pidge’s bag to match Keith’s when she mentions it. He remembers them parting ways, and he remembers oh so vividly the other boy’s blue, blue eyes.

_Lance doesn’t remember the other two’s names. What he does remember is the way the green girl blinked, surveying everything in her surroundings and how it might be used as a weapon, and the way the red boy kept glancing back when they were leaving. Their eyes met every single time._

**Shiro has lost it.**

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you actually tried to fight Lance _before_ you knew it was...well, _Lance_?” Romelle chokes out between tears and laughter. “This is amazing. Allura, are you hearing this?”

“Every word,” promises her girlfriend.

“Now I get why you ranted to me about _having déjà vu_ or something _every time you look at his eyes, Pidge_ -” starts the gremlin. Keith flushes, slapping a hand across her mouth.

“Aww, Keithy’s in _love_ ,” Lance croons. Keith frowns at him.

“Lance. We’re dating.”

“Still,” Lance grins, moving over to wrap an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “That’s embarrassing.”

“You should listen to yourself,” Keith hums. He closes his eyes, leaning into Lance’s side. “Apparently you were, I quote, ‘Actually worse than Keith, he can’t go a second without ranting about the _exact shade of his eyes_ ’ and -”

“You made your point clear,” Lance pouts. Keith laughs.

“If you two are done flirting, can we get the dirt on what happened on you and Pidge’s first Halloween together?” Matt calls out. Keith smiles wickedly.

“You know what happened, Matt.”

“But _they_ deserve to know too,” he says, malice gleaming in his amber eyes, gesturing at the others. He points directly at Adam. “Especially you.”

Shiro’s face goes pale.

“Oh, no, not -”

Pidge and Matt drown the rest of his sentence out in evil laughter.

“What did he do?” Lance whispers to Keith. He rests his hand on Lance’s back, reclines back against the couch leg.

“Just wait and listen. It’s probably the most idiotic mistake ever made on Halloween…”


	30. Costume Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *slams desk* *chanting* LEAKIRA LEAKIRA

"Keith, you know I try to be as accepting as possible, but _this_...this has gone too far.”

“Says the man who tried to convince everyone to go as their favourite animals,” teases Keith. “In all seriousness, though, Mothman. And Nessie. It’s perfect.”

“That’s not perfect!” Lance protests. “Hippo and shark is perfect. And if we could bring in the owl-lion-dog-cat-fox-rabbit-sparrow-whatever a klanmuirl is, so the rest of the gang, it’d be even _better_ than perfect.”

They’re sitting on the bed, facing each other, debating how to win the newly announced costume contest. It won’t just be their friend group this year, Lance’s sister’s friends have tried to organize it for everyone who was in their year at the Garrison.

“You know everyone won’t be able to make it. Pidge and Hunk have their robotics thing, Shiro and Adam are _totally not_ going on a date,” Keith snorts, “Allura, Matt, Coran _and_ Romelle weren’t in our year, so we’ve got to win the contest on our own.”

Lance falls backwards onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. “But we’re not doing hippo and shark, and we’re _definitely_ not doing Mothman and Nessie, although I love my cryptid daughter, so what do we do?”

Keith doesn’t respond, looking around the room for anything - any shred of inspiration. His eyes land on a green swath of fabric, draped across the back of a chair.

“Wait…” he whispers, voicing his thoughts. Lance sits upright, searching Keith’s eyes for an answer.

“You’ve got that long green coat,” Keith realises. “And…”

“And you’d look absolutely _wonderful_ with your hair in a ponytail,” Lance muses, catching on. Maintaining eye contact, they share a determined smile.

\---

The room is loud...and then all of a sudden, it’s quiet.

There’s people everywhere in costumes ranging from ridiculously extravagant to intricately detailed, from simple and classic to elaborate and clearly worked on with painstaking meticulousness. People are chatting, catching up, musing on who’s going to win the costume contest - it’s kind of difficult to tell, as most are at the same level. There’s none that stand out enough to be a clear, undisputed winner.

Until there is.

The room is loud, and then all of a sudden it’s quiet. All of a sudden, there’s the roar of a motor - really an unnecessary touch - and a cloud of smoke spreads, and the door opens, and the smoke - also an unnecessary touch, but it’s just water vapour - streams in around two silhouettes standing in the doorway.

A green coat flutters in the doorway. An orange-tinted visor, a black-purple steely mask. An ever-familiar spiky ponytail. Red jacket, blue pistols, dark blade.

“Leandro and Akira?” murmurs someone, and the whisper spreads. _Leandro and Akira_. They’re fictional...but who else could this be? They look almost like they’ve popped out of the show itself. But it can’t be Leandro and Akira...and slowly they catch on.

If it’s not Leandro and Akira, it’s...

“ _Lance and Keith!_ ” hoots someone else. Veronica is standing at the back of the room, clapping.

“ _That’s my baby brother and his awesome boyfriend!_ ”

“And I think we know who wins now,” grins Rizavi from beside her.

Keith flips up his mask, grinning at Lance. “Did we do it?”

Lance returns the - frankly lovesick, Veronica’s little brother is the cheesiest - smile, and the two walk forwards to join Veronica and her squad at the elevated stage at the back of the room. The chatter and whispers start up again, but Veronica can still hear his words.

“Oh, I think we did it, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what y'all are saying about Veracxa but really you can pry Verizavi from my cold dead hands XD
> 
> Update: well this endnote aged poorly, veracxa has swallowed me whole in the aftermath of s8


	31. Trick-or-Treating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINAL DAY  
> Now if you know me which I'm assuming most of y'all don't you'd know I can't follow  
> A) Prompt borders  
> B) Overarching theme borders  
> C) A plot  
> D) Time limits  
> So here's me desperately trying to turn trick or treating into...well. You'll see.

“Trick or treat!” Lance grins. “Surprise.”

Keith shakes his head, opening the door wider. “What held you up? See another duck?”

“Oh, shut up,” Lance snorts. “It was one time! And to be fair, it was a really cool-looking duck.”

Keith smiles. _Dork_.

“So, we’re definitely not walking around the streets singing musicals this year,” Pidge is saying as they walk into the main room of the Castle of Lions (apparently Allura’s fancy manor is so fancy it even has a fancy name, which none of them have really fully comprehended yet). Hunk hums in consideration.

“That was fun...but I think we confused some people, so that’s something to think about.”

“People like that guy who came up to us telling us it ‘wasn’t caroling time yet’? Yeah.” Matt laughs.

They’re not bad singers by any means. The opposite, actually, their vast range of voices means they make a shockingly good chorus. Plus, being unorthodox and startling other strangers is always fun.

“Hm...can’t we confuse people again?” Romelle asks. Everyone exchanges glances.

“We could,” murmurs Pidge. “But it’d have to be somewhere...not anywhere near the houses on 5th street.”

Allura smiles a big, fake smile. “Of course not.”

A collective shudder runs through them. Maybe they were a _little_ too loud on 5th street.

“The park?” suggests Adam.

“Why not?” grins Lance.

\---

“That was fun,” Pidge gasps, collapsing on the side of the fountain the center of the park.

Hunk nods, out of breath. “Even though that last note was…”

“Awesome,” Keith breathes, staring at the sky.

“We rocked the belting,” Lance adds. Shiro huffs, satisfied.

“How long did we hold that?”

“Ten seconds. How the actual quiznak?” Matt laughs, light and slightly hysterical-sounding.

“We’re just amazing,” Lance says, stretching out on the grass next to Keith.

Shiro blinks twice, precisely and deliberately. He then proceeds to stroll off with Adam.

Pidge dances around the rim of the fountain, calling out over her shoulder: “Everyone meet back here at nine!” And then she’s gone too.

Hunk walks in another direction with Romelle and Allura. Matt and Coran exchange a sly glance, look back at the fountain, and disappear into the darkness of the park.

They’ve all disappeared, in the span of around five seconds. Or maybe more like two.

Lance kind of wishes he’d never told Allura - _just Allura, just_ one _person!_ \- what he intended to do that night.

“It’s not scary,” Keith says into the quiet. “I mean, Halloween is supposed to be all scary, but it doesn’t feel like Halloween. Not a particularly special night.”

He pauses.

“No, actually, it is. It’s not scary, but it’s special.”

“And why’s that?” Lance whispers, watching the stars scatter their light across the sky.

Keith smiles, looks over at him.

“Because you’re here.”

Lance’s heart might melt. Again. It melts again and again, over and over - he falls in love with Keith over and over again, every day.

“Now that is just unfair. I need a solid heart, Keith, what am I gonna do if you keep melting it?”

Keith laughs, soft and clear and delighted. Lance is so utterly aware of the weight in his pocket.

He stands up, brushes nonexistent grass off of him, extends a hand to Keith. A small smile crosses his face, replacing his curious expression.

“What’s all this?” Keith asks teasingly. The starlit sky surrounds them, the shadowy and calm park their backdrop. Lance takes Keith’s other hand. The moonlight reflects in his eyes as comprehension dawns in his face.

Keith takes a half-step backwards. Lance moves forwards. Celestial light shines down on them. The night’s quiet is their music, their instincts the only choreography.

They dance.

They spin themselves around, sway to their own unheard music. Keith starts to hum.

It’s familiar to Lance, the song Keith spent so many days trying to teach him on piano. Eventually, they turned it into a duet - both singing, both playing.

“ _May these words be the first to reach your ears,_ ” Lance sings. Keith closes his eyes, joins in:

“ _The world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here…_ ”

They dance through the song and around the fountain, letting the sky cast them in light and shadow. The water cascades, calm, in the background, and their voices rise, filling the area.

_I’ll give you everything I have, I’ll teach you everything I know_

_I promise, I’ll do better_

_I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go_

_I promise, I’ll do better_

_I will rearrange the stars, pull ‘em down to where you are_

_I promise, I’ll do better_

_With every heartbeat I have left, I’ll defend your every breath_

_I promise, I’ll do better_

_I will soften every edge, hold the world to its best_

_I promise, I’ll do better_

_With every heartbeat I have left,_

_I’ll defend your every breath_

_I’ll do better…_

They don’t stop when they’re out of breath, when they stop singing. They twirl and laugh and let themselves fall, knowing the other will catch them.

Finally, Keith leans back and lets the gravity overtake him. Just as fast, his hand is caught in the air, another hand sliding behind his neck.

“Every time, Lance,” he laughs, one leg off the ground to accentuate the dramatic dip.

“Every single time,” Lance agrees, and leans down to kiss him.

\---

It sounds like a promise. It feels like a promise. Keith thinks about the little box he’s got in his jacket pocket.

He’s ready to make it a promise.

\---

“I kinda sympathise with the trick-or-treaters,” Lance muses. Keith quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

They’re walking back on the trail they walked at sunrise, through the woods and to the crest of the hill. Hand in hand, enjoying the cool air and each other’s presence.

“With every house they go to, they take a chance. _Trick or treat._ They’ll either get the prize or be turned away.”

Keith frowns. Trick-or-treating is not something one would usually wax poetic about.

“Most houses don’t turn kids away, though,” he points out. Lance looks down.

“Yeah, but there’s always the one, isn’t there?”

“...is everything all right?” Keith asks quietly.

The trail ends, the moon gleaming bright above the hill - illuminating Lance, scattering stars in his hair, surrounding him in silver. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

The question hangs unanswered in the air.

“Remember when we first came to this hill?” Lance reminisces. Keith snorts.

“You mean when we were fifteen and met here for the first time because of our friends - probably just Shiro and Pidge, to be honest - and the first thing you did was try to insult me?”

“Or when we were eighteen and couldn’t deal with our emotions, but were left alone on top of the hill anyways?” grins Lance. Keith smiles in return.

“I think I tried pushing you off.”

“You did. It hurt.” Lance narrows his eyes, half-raises his hands. “Is it time for payback?”

Keith shakes his head, laughs. “I couldn’t stand you at the time -”

“- Thanks, babe -”

“- I think it was just me trying to distance myself from...well, you. My crush on you.”

“I still have the urge to laugh and tell you that’s embarrassing; I also had a crush on you, it was also very embarrassing.”

“You know the thing, though?” muses Keith. “I think I realised...well, I think I realised that I was in love with you here.”

Lance looks down, a soft smile glowing on his face.

“Same here,” he confesses. “I wasn’t even aware of it until that day on the hill, but…”

He shrugs. Helplessly. It’s a good kind of helpless, thought - it’s an everlasting free-fall in love.

“I love you. I didn’t know it back then. I do now.”

Keith’s eyes soften, more than he thought possible.

“I love you too. And...I’ve been thinking. About what you said a while ago.”

Lance blinks. Licks his lips. “...Yeah? When?”

“When we moved all the couches up to the fireplace and fell asleep there,” Keith smiles, remembering that night. “And...you mentioned…”

The hand that isn’t holding Lance’s slips into his pocket. Now or never.

“You mentioned the promise. The guarantee. The _forever_. And...I didn’t say anything.”

They stand there, the world quieting and stopping its spin around them.

“Because I was afraid. Of what I would have said. Of how easily I would have said it.”

The light rains down in silver, freezing the night. The moment, the chance he’s taking - it becomes eternity. The _forever_.

“But...I _want_ to say it. And I can. And...I will.”

Keith takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. Gets down on one knee. Opens the box he’s hidden away in his pocket the whole night.

“Lance McClain. Will you marry me?”

There’s a beat, a moment of heart-stopping silence.

“Goddammit, Keith,” Lance says softly, sounding a bit choked up. Keith’s eyes widen, but Lance continues: “I was planning to propose first.”

One eyebrow quirks up.

“How do you always manage to beat me?” Lance grins, bringing out a box nearly identical to Keith’s in everything but colour. He shakes his head, inhales and exhales, closes his eyes before he opens them again to meet Keith’s.

“Keith Kogane, you incredible idiot, of course I’ll marry you.”

\---

The moonlight shines down on top of the hill. It spreads across the treetops below, lights the two on the grass in a silver sheen. The stars flash off the rings they wear; red and blue. Not identical - but the perfect pair, more now than just a good team.

The taller of the two leans down to kiss the other, and then they lie back on the hill, pointing out constellations, laughing in the argentum glow. They watch the stars, they talk about the future, they think about _forever_. Their forever. With each other.

\---

“So, am I invited to the wedding?” Shiro jokes as Lance and Keith walk into view, joined hands swinging between them. The rest of the group is there by then, ready to go.

Keith smiles, holds up his hand - the one not intertwined with Lance's. Shiro has to check to make sure he’s not seeing things - did they _actually_ do it?

“You’d crash it if you weren’t, does it matter?” he teases, letting the sky’s light illuminate the red stone that seems to glow from within, even in the dark.

...Well. He’s impressed.

They turn and walk out of the park, each of the group taking turns to congratulate the pair - _engaged!_ His baby brother is growing up so fast - as they make their way home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* DIP AND KISS  
> Yaaay, my bois are getting married!  
> Song is Light by Sleeping At Last  
> Aaand that's a wrap! Thanks anyone who read this trash nebula (probably just Windy, hi)!  
> (Trash Nebula would be a really cool name for a oneshot/drabble dump...hmm)


End file.
